


Possibly, Maybe I'm Falling

by nicky_writes



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Prequel Trilogy
Genre: Alcohol, Alternate Universe - College/University, Character Death, Eventual Smut, I need help, M/M, Student!Anakin/Professor!Obi-Wan, and professor!obi-wan, i'm a sucker for college aus, obikin, professor/student, sad boys with a happy ending, some violence
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-05-27
Updated: 2017-09-24
Packaged: 2018-11-05 08:58:24
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 12
Words: 30,894
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11010183
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nicky_writes/pseuds/nicky_writes
Summary: Anakin doesn't know if he can survive Mr. Kenobi's English class. Between his teacher's seemingly endless amount of sass and the strange attraction growing between them, he doesn't know how this semester is going to go and if it would just be easier to drop out and forget about the budding romance between him and Obi-Wan Kenobi.





	1. Chapter One

Anakin squinted his eyes as he made his way out of his dorm building and into the sunlight. Truly, it was a picturesque day, lying right on the edge between summer and autumn, and if the mild weather wasn’t an indication of this, the student body was. Young adults ranging from doe-eyed 18 year olds to those in their mid-to-late twenties milled about, some in sweaters and beanies, already anxious for fall to be there, some wearing simple t-shirts like Anakin was, willing to brave the morning chill with the knowledge that, by noon, they wouldn’t even be able to remember a time that day when they were shivering. 

It was, for many, the first day of classes, and, for Anakin, his first day of college in general. Clutching his schedule in one hand and his mug of coffee that he’d made in his roommate’s contraband coffee pot in the other, he started walking towards the English building. 

(“Sure, we’re not technically allowed to have appliances in our dorm rooms,” Rex had shrugged. “But, the way I see it, coffee isn’t a choice; it’s a life line. You’ll know what I mean by the time your first set of finals come around.” But Anakin, who’d had to work since the age of fifteen, already well knew how vital coffee was to keeping his body running like a semi-well-oiled machine. He’s just simply nodded and offered to chip in when it came time to bribe the hall director into letting them keep it.)

Already, there was a sense of dread welling up within him at the thought of his first class. He’d come to Coruscant University ready to jump into the world of engineering, something he already had a fair amount of knowledge on. He hadn’t expected or wanted to kick things off with his worst subject. He knew that he was required to take at least two English courses as long as he was in the program, but it didn’t mean he had to like it. He could already picture himself, sitting in a desk at the back of the classroom, drooling and fighting off sleep as a stuffy old man with three hairs on his head and a snotty, nasally voice lectured him on the importance of sentence structure. 

No, thank you. 

Feeling his left pocket buzz, he reached down and retrieved his phone, unlocking it to read a message from his best friend and, other than Rex, the only person he knew at his new college. 

‘You can do this, Ani! I believe in you! And, hey, I’ll get you something special tonight to celebrate surviving your first day ;)’ 

He grinned. Padme was a life-saver, truly. They’d met when he was a freshman in high school, when she was a sophomore but already the most beautiful and well-loved student in the student body. Ever since his first awkward day in theater when she’d taken him under her wing, they’d been inseparable. Except, of course, for the past year when she’d moved on to attend school out of state. As luck would have it, though, Anakin managed to get a full ride to her same school, and so once again they were joined at the hip. 

Tapping on his phone’s screen with one hand and opening the doors to the old building that now housed the classrooms dedicated to English professors, he sent her back a message. 

‘i hope that something special means chocolate and a lot of it.’

‘Of course! I may even bring Starbucks.’

Again, she was a life-saver. 

Taking his eyes off his phone, Anakin started scanning door numbers, starting to feel anxious when he seemed to be finding every classroom except the one he needed to be in. Glancing at a clock hanging on the wall to his left, he let out a curse upon realizing he was already a minute late. Starting to jog down corridors now, he frantically searched both the first and second floor until finally locating 214-B. 

Stepping in, he looked up to see at least forty faces staring back at him, and a blush immediately stained his cheeks. Freezing in the doorway, his eyes scanned the raised platforms on which rested the seemingly endless amount of desks crammed into the room, not finding any on the back rows, where he’d normally prefer to sit. 

“Excuse me, can I help you?” 

Turning to his right, Anakin’s jaw immediately dropped when he saw the man standing before him. Easily, he was the most attractive person he’d ever laid eyes on. Meticulously-groomed strawberry blonde hair, a well-trimmed beard of the same color, blueish-gray eyes that lay behind a set of thick-rimmed glasses… Anakin was gaping like a fish as he took him in, knowing that he should probably move but not having the willpower to look away from someone so beautiful. 

The beautiful man, however, was also starting to look very annoyed, one of his eyebrows quirking up at Anakin, obviously unimpressed with the young man. He cleared his throat and placed his hands on his hips, tsking. 

“I’m going to assume you speak English, going by the class you’ve stumbled into,” he clipped in a posh accent that immediately made Anakin’s knees weak. He snapped out of his trance at the sarcasm in his tone, though, and turned at least 75 shades redder than he already was. 

“I-I… Yeah, I speak English,” he stuttered. “And Spanish, but you...you didn’t ask that…” He trailed off, biting his lip and wondering why, oh why, his brain had decided to short-circuit right at this moment. A few of his classmates chuckled, whether with or at him he couldn’t tell, but they were silenced as the Hot Guy, as Anakin was now calling him in his mind, turned a sharp glare in their direction. 

“Well, por favor, then,” he continued exasperatedly, “tell me why it is you’ve disrupted my class?” 

“I...I’m in this class,” Anakin muttered sheepishly. “I got a little lost in the hallways.” 

“Ah,” Hot Guy said. “An easy mistake to make. But, seeing whereas you know where it is now, I expect this problem never to rise again, Mr…?”

“...Anakin,” came his response, a few seconds delayed as he realized he was being asked for his name. “Skywalker.” 

“Alright, Mr. Skywalker,” Hot Guy drawled, gesturing to the front row to one of the only empty desks left. “Have a seat and do try not to distract anyone further.” 

Nodding, feeling thoroughly and completely like an idiot, Anakin hurried to the seat and plopped down in it, looking down at his desk, wishing he’d just disappear already. 

“Now, as I was saying,” the man continued, “this is American Literature 165, which means we’ll be reading five classics written by American authors, as you can see on your syllabi. Each night you’ll have a reading assignment…” 

Anakin tuned out at this point, looking around at the people he shared this class with. Each one held a piece of paper in their hands, presumably a syllabus, whereas Anakin was empty handed. Looking back to the front of the classroom, he read two notes on the board. One said “Please take a syllabus.” with an arrow pointing down to a stack of papers on the table beneath the white board. The other note said simply, in messy handwriting, “Mr. Kenobi”. 

So that was Hot Guy’s real name. 

‘Kenobi’. Anakin mouthed the name as he watched his teacher speak, gesturing with his hands every now and then as he went over what they would be learning about over the semester and what books they’d have to purchase from the campus book shop, the one that Anakin just so happened to work at three days a week. At least he knew where that part of the campus was. 

After the first ten minutes or so, Anakin started to zone out, eyes never leaving Mr. Kenobi but mind wandering elsewhere until, with a start, he realized his classmates were all starting to stand up after having been, apparently, dismissed. 

Standing and slinging his backpack over one shoulder, Anakin started to follow them out, but he paused in the doorway when he realized he still didn’t have a syllabus. Turning back around, he slowly made his way to Mr. Kenobi’s desk, dreading the thought of making a fool out of himself again. 

“Mr. Kenobi?” he asked quietly. Turning back around from where he’d been writing at the whiteboard, the teacher in question eyed Anakin up and down before setting down his marker. 

“Yes, Mr. Skyalker?” 

“I, um… I never got a syllabus,” he stated in a tone a little louder than a mutter. 

“Ah.” Turning around, Kenobi retrieved the small stack, which he’d placed back onto his desk sometime during the lesson, and handed Anakin one. “There you are.” 

Nodding, Anakin folded the paper half twice before slipping it into the pocket of his dark skinny jeans, brushing some hair out of his eyes as he hesitated in front of his overly attractive professor. 

“Hey, I’m sorry about...earlier,” he said, trying to sound nonchalant. “I didn’t mean to “distract” anyone.” 

Kenobi’s gaze softened into a small smile, and he waved a hand as if to clear the air. 

“Think nothing of it. I’ll admit I was hard on you, but… Well. The spanish comment sort of threw me,” he stated. “Just don’t let it happen again and we’ll be just fine.” 

Nodding, the younger man took a step towards the door. 

“Well… Have a good day,” he said awkwardly, already turning and heading for the exit as his teacher responded. 

“And you as well.” 

Walking out of the English building as fast as his long legs would carry him, Anakin berated himself, face palming internally and literally as he played over his words in his head, not to mention how unprepared he felt for a whole semester of taking that class every Monday, Wednesday, and Thursday of every week until December. 

Oh, he had a bad feeling about this.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Let me know what you guys think! I'm terrified that my dialogue between Anakin and Obi-Wan is shitty, so please let me know if you have any tips on ways to improve it, or if you guys think it's ok so far. Thanks, and, as always, enjoy!

“I’m telling you, Padme. He was unfairly gorgeous. And BRITISH.” 

Anakin’s friend laughed, taking another bite out of her chocolate bar as she listened to his tale. 

“And I was… I was a fucking idiot.” 

“I’m sure that’s not true, Anakin,” she tried to assure him. 

“Padme,” he insisted. “After I’d stared at him for at least 11 years, he asked if I spoke English and I was like, ‘Yeah, and Spanish.’” 

She winced at that, placing a hand on his shoulder. 

“Well… Ok, that was kind of a dumb thing to say. But you were flustered! I’m sure Mr. Kenobi understands.” 

“He understands that I’m a dumbass,” Anakin moaned, letting his head fall into his hands. “At least my day started off so shitty that it could only get better.” 

“Hey, that’s good news! Kind of,” Padme chuckled. “What happened after your first class?” 

“I finally got to my first class that actually dealt with engineering,” he answered. “Mr. Jinn teaches that one.” 

“Oh, I love Mr. Jinn!” his friend interjected. “We go way back.” 

“...Padme, you’ve only been here a year.” 

“Like I said, way back,” she laughed. “I’m just kidding. He’s actually friends of my parents. At least, he used to be, but they lost touch after we moved to Arizona.” 

“Woah, really? That’s a crazy coincidence.” 

“Well, the world is a small place,” she shrugged. “And my parents know a lot of people.” 

Padme’s mother and father had both been in politics when she was younger. Before moving to Arizona when she was 14, her mom had been a Senator. After moving, her dad had gotten involved in local government, eventually becoming mayor of the town of Tatooine. Padme herself was going school to become a politician, and Anakin was willing to bet everything he owned that one day she’d be the first female President of the U.S. 

“Well, in any case,” Anakin stated, “Mr. Jinn is by far my favorite teacher so far. And I still don’t know what to think of my math teacher.” 

“Who is he? Or she?” 

“He’s Mr. Windu,” Anakin answered, and he felt an immediate sense of unease when Padme winced once again. “What, is he really that bad?” 

“Well… I’ve heard rumors,” she shrugged. “They might be untrue.” 

“What do the rumors say?” 

“Just that he’s...strict,” she hedged, clearly leaving out many details. “But...I’m sure you can get by just fine in his class! He may even like you.” 

“...Padme, have you met me?” 

Rolling her eyes, his friend bumped his shoulder with hers, flashing him a bright smile. 

“I have,” she stated. “And I love you. Don’t worry so much, Ani. It’ll all work out.” 

Sighing, Anakin was powerless to keep a soft smile from spreading across his face. Opening his arms wide, he leaned in and engulfed his smaller friend in a tight bear hug, making her squeak and scramble to set her Starbucks on the couch before he could spill it. Laughing at that, he pecked the top of her head and let some of her optimism rub off on him. 

Padme was right 98% of the time. If she said everything would be ok, then Anakin could believe it. 

It didn’t keep him from dreading the upcoming Wednesday any less, though, and he still blushed when he thought of walking into Mr. Kenobi’s class again. 

__________________

“Shit shit shit shit shit shit….” 

Anakin burst through the doors of the English building, flying up the stairs to the second floor and making a beeline for his classroom. He’d forgotten to plug his phone in overnight, so it died, thus meaning his alarm hadn’t gone off that morning when it was supposed to. Kenobi’s class began at 9:30, and he’d woken up at 9:27, leaving him with three minutes to gather his things and take off across campus. 

Skidding to a stop upon reaching 214-B, Anakin took one moment to try and smooth down the massive bed head he was no doubt sporting before opening it as quietly as he could, turning the knob slowly and slinking in. Kenobi’s rich voice had been addressing the class just moments before, but it now halted as his head turned and took in his pupil’s appearance, blue eyes trailing up and down his body. 

Blushing, Anakin looked down at himself, knowing that he must be a sight. He hadn’t had time to change into actual clothes, so he was still sporting the black sweatpants he wore to bed each night. Thankfully, he’d remembered to throw on a shirt, and so his torso was covered with a tight white t-shirt that left little to the imagination. His feet were covered in his beat up pair of converse, the same ones he’d had for the past three years, and his hair, usually a nest of curls that Anakin was quite proud of, had seemingly grown to twice its size, completing an outfit that, overall, made him look like a crazy person. 

“Mr. Skywalker,” Kenobi greeted, looking as impeccable and put-together as always. “How kind of you to join us. Get lost again?” 

“Not really,” Anakin mumbled, heading for the seat he’d taken on Monday. Sinking down into his chair, he rubbed the remaining sleep out of his eyes, cranky from missing out on his morning coffee. 

“Hm. Would you see me after class?” Kenobi asked, though from his tone Anakin knew it wasn’t a request. His heart sank in his chest, and he simply nodded before getting out his notebook and the copy of A Tree Grows In Brooklyn, the first book the class was studying. He’d read the first few chapters, as the first assignment had been to do, and he’d been shocked to find that it wasn’t...terrible. Not by a long shot. He’d actually felt kind of proud of himself; he liked to read, yeah, but he wasn’t good at all of that analysis shit English teachers make you do. But he felt that he’d at least be able to have an intelligent conversation about what he’d read. 

Now, though, he’d descended into a pit of self-loathing, deciding that today was already going to be terrible, and that he wasn’t capable of anything intelligent at the moment. ‘Why do you have to fuck everything up?’ his brain screamed at him. ‘Now he hates you. He’s going to fail you and you’ll have to drop out just like the failure you are-’

“Mr. Skywalker?” 

Anakin’s head popped up upon hearing Mr. Kenobi say his name. 

“Huh?” was his witty reply. A few of his classmates snickered at this, but their teacher shot them all glares before returning his gaze to Anakin. 

“I asked you to describe some of the symbolism within the first three chapters and how you think it will play a part throughout the book,” Kenobi clarified, and Anakin’s eyes went wide as his brain seemed to stop working altogether. That was exactly the kind of question that Anakin sucked at answering, and though he opened his mouth to speak, nothing came out for a few seconds. 

All the while, Mr. Kenobi regarded him, seemingly with patience and maybe with a bit of skepticism, and something started welling up within Anakin. This guy probably thought he was an idiot, that he hadn’t even read the assignment. He could see it in his eyes - he’d given him the question expecting him to fail. And it was enough to break him out of his mental fog. Sure, he could call himself a failure, but this guy? He could prove him wrong. 

“Well,” he started, answering slowly, willing himself to come up with something fast. “I don’t know if it’s really symbolism or not, but somewhere in the first or second chapter Francie talks about the difference in, uh… In Jewish women and Catholic women, about how they view a woman that’s pregnant in each culture. And people are and always have been ignorant and shit, so I’m gonna guess that the differences between people like that is going to keep coming up throughout the book. How people are divided by things like culture and background, even in the tenement housing that Francie lives in, where they practically live on top of each other and have to go through the same shit just to stay alive.” 

As Anakin said all of this, Kenobi’s face had changed from unimpressed to surprise and then, by the end of his answer, a quiet respect. The room was silent for a few moments before he finally cleared his throat, clasping his hands behind his back and...was that a smile he was sending Anakin’s way? It was barely there, just a small quirk at the corners of his lips, but it seemed like, in that one glance, they’d come to some sort of an understanding. 

“Well,” he stated. “I’ll admit, I wasn’t expecting such a thorough answer,” his smooth accent quipped. “Well done. But please, in the future, refrain from using the word “shit” so much.” Jaw dropping at that, Anakin watched as his teacher smirked at him before turning around and gathering a small stack of papers from his desk. 

“Now that we’ve briefly discussed what you’ve read, I want you all to go home, read chapters 4 through 6, and write a two-paged paper on the story so far,” he instructed, starting to hand the people at the end of the rows a set of papers. “Please, take one of these and pass them down. These contain all of the guidelines on what your papers should include, along with what sort of fonts and spacing your document should contain.” After handing the last row their stack, Kenobi made his way down the set of platforms, coming to a stop at the front of the classroom, looking out at his pupil’s faces. It could have just been his imagination, but Anakin could have sworn that his teacher’s gaze lingered on his for a beat longer than the others, but his thoughts were interrupted when the professor spoke once more. 

“You’re all dismissed,” he stated, and immediately chairs were pushed back, bags were slung over shoulders, and an exodus of students made their way to the door. Anakin, too, stood up to leave, but then remembered his teacher’s request for him to stay after class was over. Swallowing down his nervousness, he lingered behind the rest, walking up to Kenobi as the last people left the room. 

“You wanted me to stay behind?” he asked, shifting on his feet. He noticed for the first time that he was taller than the man standing before him. Why did he make Anakin feel so small, then? 

“I did,” Kenobi nodded, perching himself on the edge of his desk and crossing his arms. Anakin really couldn’t help the way his eyes mapped out the older man’s body. He was lean, and his arms bulged just a bit under the pale blue dress shirt he was wearing, indicating a figure made up of lean muscle. Over the dress shirt he wore a cream-colored sweater vest, something that Anakin would usually think looks horrendous, but for some reason it worked for the man. Of course, the tight tan slacks he was wearing didn’t hurt either, and Anakin forced his eyes upwards, back to those of the man now regarding him with an expression of...was that smugness? Had he caught Anakin checking him out?

“Mr. Skywalker, you told me a few days ago that there would be no distractions,” he stated. “And yet, here we are once again, with you barging into my classroom five minutes late. Usually I forgive this sort of thing on the first day of class, but you knew your way this time around. Care to explain yourself?” 

“My alarm didn’t go off,” he sighed, trying once more to comb his fingers through his hair. When his hand snagged on a particularly large set of knots, however, he gave that endeavor up shoves his hands in his pockets. 

“Your alarm didn’t go off,” Kenobi deadpanned. “You do realize that class starts at 9:30, right?” 

“...Yeah?” 

“I think that would give you plenty of time to wake up of your own accord,” he shrugged. “It’s not too awfully early in the day.” 

“Fuck, you’re a morning person aren’t you?” Anakin blurted out, immediately regretting it when Kenobi’s eyebrows shot up his face. 

“I-I mean… I just… I like sleeping,” he stuttered, backpedalling as fast as he could. “I could easily sleep till noon. It’s fine if you like mornings, it’s just really weird and I can barely pull myself out of bed as it is-” 

He stopped rambling when he noticed his teacher had started laughing softly, an amused glint in his eyes as he regarded the young man before him. 

“Anakin, you can calm down,” he assured him. “I’m not going to punish you for criticizing my morning routine. I shouldn’t have assumed you were like me in that regard.” 

His student blushed all over again upon hearing Kenobi say his first name. The way he pronounced the syllables in that decadent accent was tying Anakin’s stomach into knots, and he bit his lower lip, hoping the older man couldn’t see how he was affecting him. 

When his eyes snapped down to Anakin’s lips, however, he knew he was busted, and he scrambled to think of something to fill the short silence with before it became too awkward.  
“I’m really sorry about today,” he muttered. “I was careless. But I’ll be careful to avoid making the same mistake again.” 

Seemingly placated with this statement, the teacher nodded, eyes lingering on Anakin’s mouth before meeting his gaze once more. 

“I’ll give you one last chance before I start docking your participation grade,” he stated. “Which I was going to do today, until your answer to my question about symbolism. I’m honestly very impressed that you picked up on that.” 

“Thank you,” Anakin nodded, butterflies flitting around in his stomach upon hearing the praise. “I usually hate English classes, especially the stuffy books I have to read in them, but this one is...surprisingly tolerable so far. I can kind of see where Francie is coming from.” 

“Really? Did you grow up in a city like Brooklyn yourself?” 

“No,” Anakin shook his head. “I’m from Arizona, actually, but… Me and my Mom didn’t have a lot of money growing up, so I can get what she means when she’s talking about finding joy in the simple things she does have, you know?” Later, Anakin would wonder what the hell made him open up like that to a complete stranger. But, at the time, it seemed perfectly natural to let Mr. Kenobi know about that small sliver of his life. 

The man’s eyes softened as he regarded his student, the respect from earlier flashing through his countenance. 

“Well,” he stated. “I truly look forward to reading your paper tomorrow. I’d like to know more about how the book is affecting you personally. Until then, though, I’m afraid I must be getting ready for my next class.”

“Oh. Oh, yeah, of course,” Anakin nodded. “Sure, I’ll see you tomorrow, then. At 9:30.” Turning on his heel, he started out of the classroom, feeling giddy from the approval he’d seen within his teacher. Maybe Mr. Kenobi wasn’t so bad, after all.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WOAH two updates in one day??? I'm on fire, guys. I'm such obikin trash. I must be stopped.

Obi-Wan Kenobi prided himself on never being caught off guard. He’d been teaching at Coruscant University for five years now, and he was convinced that he could handle anything any of his students threw at him. He’d had angry students stand up and cuss him out in the middle of a lecture; he’d had doe-eyed girls stay after class and proposition quite a number of things it would be both illegal and wildly inappropriate for him to do to them on his desk. Hell, once he’d even caught someone trying to smoke a joint in one of the back rows during a test. Each time, he’d dealt with the matter calmly and effectively, knowing that he was the master of his domain, Room 214-B. 

Anakin Skywalker, though, threw all of his feelings of self-assuredness out the proverbial window, where they then proceeded to fall into the middle of a busy intersection and promptly get run over by at least 3 school busses. Ever since that first day of class, he’d been unable to stop thinking about the young man. 

Of course, there was the physical attraction he felt for him. He knew it was most likely shameful of him to desire someone ten years his junior, but he couldn’t help how his eyes had lingered over the boy’s tall, muscular frame, the way his t-shirt had clung to his chest and his jeans had accentuated…

He was infatuated with Anakin’s body, to say the least. But he’d felt such a thing many times before, once or twice even for a student of his. But it was something else that made him dwell on Skywalker, something inside of him that seemed to strike a chord within his mind. That second day, when he’d run in wearing what was obviously his pajamas, he’d felt the urge to reach out and tousle his wild curls. Of course, he was more than capable of hiding these feelings, masking them skillfully with exasperation, but… If he was being honest with himself, he was glad the boy had been late. It had given him an excuse to keep him after class a few moments.

And even just in those two minutes, he’d learned so much about Anakin. He was obviously smart. He’d mentioned not having much money, and yet here he was at one of the most well-known university in the U.S., presumably because of having earned quite an impressive scholarship. And intelligence lay within those sky-blue irises, immediately pulling Obi-Wan into their depths. He knew now that Anakin had grown up with his mother under hard times, that he liked A Tree Grows In Brooklyn, that he was from Arizona… And he still craved to know more. 

That evening, as Obi-Wan rested in his apartment just blocks away from CU’s campus, he found himself thinking about the way Anakin might look if he was smiling. And not just the polite smiles he’d offered his teacher on the way out the door - what would he look like grinning? How would his laugh sound? What made him laugh? And, a question that he was ashamed to admit plagued him, was he even attracted to other men? 

“Get a hold of yourself,” he’d said aloud, rubbing his temples as he attempted to clear his head. “You’ve only seen him twice, and he’s a student. It will never. Happen.” 

The next day as he walked into his classroom, he repeated this thought over and over in his head, willing himself to believe it. And yet, when Mr. Skywalker came sauntering in six minutes early for class, his heart leapt into his throat, and his eyes wouldn’t leave Anakin as he sat down in his usual seat in the front. Today, he noticed, he was wearing black jeans as well, along with a t-shirt with some band name written on it that he’d never heard of. 

“Ah, Mr. Skywalker,” he couldn’t help but say. “You’re on time today.”

The boy’s head snapped up, and he offered a smile that managed to look sheepish and mischievous at the same time. 

“I am,” he answered. “I had to stay up late to write an essay for one of my teachers, but I managed to get up before 9:30.” 

“Ah, those pesky teachers with their assignments, hm?” Obi-Wan smirked. 

“They’re the worst,” Anakin chuckled. He hated how weak he felt in the knees upon hearing that sound. 

Clearing his throat, he turned to the whiteboard, not really having anything to write on it but not wanting any of his students to see the blush starting to spread up his neck and over his cheeks. Picking up a blue marker, he scrawled ‘Chap. 4-6’ in his chicken scratch handwriting before setting it down again and taking a seat behind his desk, pretending to sift through papers until 9:30 rolled around. 

“Alright,” he announced, pulling himself to his feet. “I’d like you all to take out your essays and pass them to your right. I’ll collect them right away.” 

After that, he proceeded up the steps, starting with the back row and working his way down to the front. Anakin’s paper rested at the bottom of the stack, and as tempting as it was to place it on top so he could read it first later, he forced himself to keep them all in the right order as he put them all into his ‘To Grade’ folder. 

“Thank you, everyone who chose to do the assignment,” he commended, watching the few students who hadn’t written their papers squirm in their seats. “Now that that’s out of the way, I have a surprise for you all. A pop quiz.” 

A groan sounded from some of his students, and he smirked, arching an eyebrow. 

“You have nothing to worry about, so long as you read the assigned chapters,” he remarked, starting to pass the quizzes out. “There’s only five questions in total, but please, do answer them in complete sentences.” 

After making his way back down to his desk, he sat down, starting to pull essays out of the folder. Usually, he took time to read each one carefully, looking over the content and grammar of each sentence. But, today, he was anxious to get to one paper in particular, and it rested at the bottom of the pile, just waiting for him to read. 

Eventually, students started walking up, dropping their finished quizzes into a pile and heading back to their seats. 

“Oh, feel free to leave once you’ve finished,” he said, never taking his eyes off the paper he was currently grading. “Just remember to read to chapter 10 over the weekend.” 

After that, many of his pupils left with smiles on their faces, glad to have had a class so short. Well, short for a few. About ten students were still in the room after ten minutes, and then they’d dwindled down to three after twenty. Eventually, he was left with only Anakin Skywalker, who seemed to be glaring at his quiz from under a curtain of dirty-blonde curls. Obi-Wan, for his part, tried to focus on grading. Truly, he tried. But even he was weak sometimes, and so after a solid minute of staring at the boy, he spoke up. 

“Is there a reason why you’re looking at that paper like you want to physically assault it?” he asked, watching in amusement as a blush spread over Anakin’s face. 

“Question 4,” he mumbled, twirling his pen around in his right hand. “I don’t get it.” 

Obi-Wan looked down at one of the quizzes, re-reading the question before looking up at Anakin. 

“It’s a pretty straightforward question, Anakin,” he states. “What does Francie’s aunt Sissy make at the factory she works at, and how does it affect how people in the community see Sissy?” 

“Yeah, it looks like a straightforward question,” the boy grumbles, looking back up at his professor. “But the chapter said that the factory makes toys, but only as a coverup for what it really makes. And then it never says what it’s really making! And, like, I know that the people in the community thinks Sissy is basically a slut, but I don’t see how they got that from her making toys.” 

Obi-Wan had to laugh at this, regarding Anakin with an amused expression. 

“Anakin, you did read that she works at a rubber factory, correct?” he clarified. 

“Yeah,” he stated. “What does that have to do with-” A look of understanding suddenly passed over his face, and he slowly looked down at his paper, his face and ears going a bright red. 

“Condoms,” he murmured. “She makes condoms.” 

“Hmm. Don’t tell anyone I helped you along with that question,” Obi-Wan chuckled, looking back down at the essay on his desk. ‘How cute,’ his mind whispered, earning him a blush of his own. No! There was nothing cute about that, nothing at all cute about his student. 

After just a few more minutes, Anakin stood up and handed his teacher the quiz. 

“Thanks for that,” he said, swiping some hair out of his eyes. “I, uh… I don’t see how I didn’t put that together.” 

“It’s quite alright, Anakin,” Kenobi answered with a warm smile. “I hope you enjoy your weekend.” 

“Yeah, you too, Mr. Kenobi,” the boy answered, waving a little before heading out once again. Obi-Wan’s eyes didn’t fall to Anakin’s ass as he left the room, nor did he think too much about Anakin and condoms. 

And he absolutely didn’t wonder how he was going to get through a whole semester of this sweet torment.


	4. Chapter 4

Anakin didn’t know what he’d done to earn it, but whatever good karma he’d had granted him no classes on Friday. Granted, he still had to work in the campus book shop, but he’d much rather be sitting on the dilapidated stool behind the counter or shelving books than sitting in class. Well... most of his classes. He’d immediately loved Mr. Jinn’s class on how to work Autocad and other engineering and architectural design programs, and for some reason he wasn’t dreading his English class. (It didn’t have anything to do with the fluttering feeling he got in his gut every time Mr. Kenobi looked at him.) 

But his other classes weren’t quite as enjoyable as those two. Mr. Windu had proven to be strict, just as Padme had warned, to the point where he’d shouted at Anakin for tapping his pencil against desk. (“Stop making that motherfuckin noise,” he’d berated, shocking Anakin with his use of language. He guessed that high school teachers and college professors had way different guidelines on how they were allowed to address their students.) He also just seemed to not trust Anakin. He had no idea why; all he did was pay attention in class and do his work like a good student. And he was even pretty good at the math he’d encountered so far, so his grades were pretty high. 

Then there was his anatomy class. Anakin wanted to go into biomedical engineering, so it was to be expected that he had to take courses like anatomy and chemistry. Miss Ti was nice enough, but all she did was show the same old boring PowerPoints, making it hard for him to both stay awake and focus on his work. 

But, all together, it wasn’t anything he couldn’t handle. The homework was enough to keep him up at night, but not into the early hours of the morning, and his manager allowed him to do his reading assignments between customers. And, considering that it was Friday afternoon, there weren’t many of those. 

The bell by the door did ring around 2 o’clock, though, and Anakin’s gaze shot up from A Tree Grows In Brooklyn to see none other than Mr. Jinn walking into the shop, his tall frame and long hair immediately distinguishing him to his pupil. 

“Mr. Jinn!” Anakin greeted with a genuine smile. “How are you?” 

“Ah, Anakin,” the man warmly greeted, sauntering over to the checkout desk. “I’m doing well. Glad that it’s Friday. How are you?” 

“I’m alright,” he shrugged. “I was just catching up on some reading for another class of mine. But I’ll be free at 5, thank god.” 

“Which class are you reading for?” 

“English 165.”

“Oh! You’re in Obi-Wan’s class?” Mr. Jinn looked excited at Anakin’s mention of his English course, but he’d never heard the name Obi-Wan before. 

“Er… Whose class?” 

“Oh, right, right,” the older man chuckled. “I keep forgetting. ‘Mr. Kenobi’s’ class. You’ll have to forgive me, I’ve always known him as Obi-Wan.” 

Anakin turned the name over in his head. Obi-Wan. It had a ring to it. 

“Yeah, I’m in his class,” Anakin answered after realizing he’d gone silent for a few moments. 

“You know, he was my TA when he was going to school to become an English professor,” Jinn reminisced, that small, fond smile never leaving his face. “Although I’m sure that he’s since become an even better teacher than me.” 

“He used to be your student?” Anakin asked, surprised. Mr. Jinn was always so casual with his students, and engineering was a much different subject than English. It was hard to imagine someone so prim and proper like Obi-Wan learning from a man who looked like someone straight out of the 60s, what with his hair and shaggy beard. 

“Oh, yes,” the teacher replied. “I know it’s hard to imagine; our personalities are so different. During the first month or so, we had our fair share of conflicts. But overtime we became close friends. Now he’s like a brother to me.” 

“Huh.” Anakin sat back in his chair, thinking that over. “Let me guess, he got upset with how disorganized your classroom is.” The younger man pictured it now, what with the computers and desks arranged helter skelter around pieces of machinery and mechanical parts. Then he thought of the older man’s desk, piled high with papers and binders and notebooks, ready to be toppled over if just the smallest of breezes came blowing through the room. 

“Yes,” Mr. Jinn conceded, chuckling. “How’d you know?” 

“Oh, it was just a lucky guess,” Anakin said. 

“So how are you enjoying Obi-Wan’s class, then?” 

“You know, it surprised me,” he explained. “I usually hate English classes, but Mr. Kenobi is a pretty good teacher. And the book we’re reading right now isn’t too bad.” 

“I’m glad to hear it,” Jinn smiled. “But now to why I came here in the first place. You don’t happen to know if this store sells composition books with grid paper, do you?” 

“Oh, yeah,” Anakin said, standing up from the stool. “I’ll show you where we keep them.” After that, he led his teacher past several rows of textbooks, novels, and various stationary tools to the notebooks section, pointing out a display of composition books he’d been using himself. 

“Right here, Mr. Jinn,” he said, pointing at them. 

“Oh, please, it’s Qui-Gon when we’re not in a classroom,” he smiled, picking one up that had the design of a flower on it and turning back to the checkout. 

“An interesting choice,” Anakin observed teasingly. 

“What? I like flowers,” Qui-Gon shrugged, shooting him a smirk. 

“Nothing wrong with that,” the boy stated, walking back around to ring up the purchase. Putting it into a paper bag with the store’s logo on it, he handed it over to his teacher, smiling as he did so. 

“Thanks for making my shift a little less boring,” he grinned. Mr. Jinn laughed and nodded, taking the bag and tugging it into one of the massive pockets sewed into his equally massive beige cardigan. 

“I do what I can,” he winked. Turning back to the doors of the shop, he walked out, leaving Anakin to go back to reading, though his mind was distracted with thoughts of Obi-Wan, wondering what he’d been like when he was younger, if he was always as handsome as he was now. 

_______________

Sunday in the city was a special time, Obi-Wan thought. Especially Sunday morning. Birds were heard singing, seen flying among the trees lining the sidewalks. The leaves were starting to change color, painting the town in reds and oranges. Obi-Wan knew that it meant the trees were dying, expiring as the nights turned colder and longer. But he still smiled as he walked by them, hands shoved into the pockets of his jacket as he made his way to his favorite cafe, only four blocks away from his apartment. 

He wasn’t surprised to see that Qui-Gon was late. They’d agreed to meet for coffee (or, in the older man’s case, tea) at 10, but he’d never known his former teacher to be anything but at least 10 minutes late. Walking up to the counter, he went ahead and ordered his drink of choice, a black coffee with a shot of espresso, and a cup of chai for his friend before taking his normal seat, at a table near the back of the shop right next to a window. Pulling a small paperback novel out of his inner jacket pocket, he put on his reading glasses and started to skim the page, not even looking up as a tall man took the seat opposite to him. 

“Hello, Obi-Wan,” Qui-Gon greeted, thanking the waitress as she placed their drinks down a moment later. 

“Hello, my friend,” Obi-Wan replied, finishing the paragraph he was on before tucking his book away once again. 

“Sorry about being late.”

“You always are,” the younger man smiled, watching steam curl up out of his cup. Wrapping his fingers around it, he raised it to his lips, blowing softly before taking the first caffeine-packed sip. He studied his friend as he did so, not at all surprised to see that he was wearing that same cardigan he wore at least 85% of the time. He’d had it for years, and holds had been worn into the hemline, and yet he still donned it every morning as he prepared himself for the day ahead. 

“So,” Qui-Gon sighed, gulping down some of his tea before finishing his statement, “I found out we have a mutual student yesterday.” 

“Oh? Who would that be?” 

“Anakin Skywalker.” 

Just at the mere mention of the boy’s names, Obi-Wan’s cheeks flushed a bright red that he prayed Qui-Gon wouldn’t A) notice, or B) mention. Of course, it was Qui-Gon he was talking about, so he did all of the above. Grinning slyly, he leaned forward, talking in a hushed tone. 

“Do you LIKE-”

“I’m going to stop you right there,” Obi-Wan interrupted, rubbing his forehead. “I don’t have any...feelings for the boy. He’s one of my students.” 

“Tell that to your blush,” Qui-Gon shrugged, looking far too smug as he took a sip of his tea. 

“I swear to Christ, Qui-Gon, if you say anything I will walk out and make you pay me back for the tea which you’re now currently consuming.” 

“Alright, alright,” he chuckled, holding his hands up in mock-surrender. “Goodness, I can’t even tease my closest friend, apparently.” 

“Not about that,” he sighed, rolling his eyes. “He’s my STUDENT, you know. I’m his teacher. It’s wildly inappropriate.” 

“...You do notice that you’ve failed to tell me that you don’t like him, right?” 

Obi-Wan paused, choosing to take a sip of his coffee instead of reply to that statement. He’d never lied to Qui-Gon before, and he didn’t want to start now, even if it was something he was deeply ashamed of. 

“For what it’s worth,” his friend sighed, “I think he likes you, too.” 

At this, the younger man almost choked, coughing on the hot liquid currently trying to make its way into his lungs. Beating on his chest with a fist, he watched Qui-Gon as he fought back a laugh at his reaction, and he tried his best to glare at his friend as he recovered from his coughing fit. 

“Why,” he finally grumbled, clearing his throat, “would you think that?” 

“He said you were a good teacher yesterday,” he answered. “And that he usually hates English, but he enjoyed your class.” 

“That doesn’t mean he likes me,” Obi-Wan stated, rolling his eyes. 

“I think he does. My instincts tell me so.” 

“Your instincts,” Obi-Wan deadpanned, shooting him a skeptical look. “Well in that case, he’s definitely pining after me. He’s sure to propose any day now.” 

“Alright, the sass isn’t necessary.” 

Obi-Wan opened his mouth to make yet another sarcastic remark, but his eyes darted up once the cafe’s door opened to reveal none other than Anakin Skywalker himself, laughing at something the pretty brunette girl he was with was saying. A pang of jealousy struck him unsuspectingly, feeling as if a shard of ice had lodged itself in his chest despite the fact that he had no claim over Anakin, that he’d only known him for a few days. But, then again, when did emotions ever listen to logic. 

Turning around to see what his friend was staring at, Qui-Gon smiled when he saw the two young people at the register. 

“Oh! Speak of the devil,” he smiled. He waited until after the two had placed their orders to wave at them, speaking up so they’d hear. 

“If it isn’t Miss Amidala and Mr. Skywalker.” Turning their heads in their direction, they both smiled and headed over. Obi-Wan tried not to stare at the tight t-shirt Anakin was wearing, trying to hide a blush as he got closer. 

“Hello, Qui-Gon!” the girl greeted. He stood to give her a warm hug as Obi-Wan looked up at his student. 

“Good morning, Anakin,” he managed, putting on a friendly smile. “You haven’t slept till noon today.” 

“I was tempted to,” he admitted, blushing a bit. “Padme wouldn’t let me.” 

“To function as a productive member of society, you can’t spend all day sleeping,” Padme chided, bumping his shoulder with hers. Turning to Obi-Wan, she smiled and held out her hand. 

“I’m Padme Amidala, by the way,” she introduced herself. “Qui-Gon and I have known each other almost all of my life.” 

Shaking her hand, Obi-Wan couldn’t help but smile despite his earlier jealousy. She was one of the only young people he’d ever met to introduce themselves with a handshake. 

“It’s a pleasure,” he responded. “I’m Obi-Wan Kenobi.” 

“Anakin’s mentioned you,” she said, causing her friend’s face to go an even deeper shade of pink. 

“Oh?” the teacher responded, eyes going back to the young man’s. “All good things, I hope?” 

“All good things,” he assured, clearing his throat before turning to his other teacher. “Qui-Gon, good to see you. Enjoying your notebook?” 

“Oh, flowers and all,” he chuckled. “Would the two of you like to join us? We can pull up some chairs.” 

Obi-Wan immediately panicked at this, but Padme was quick to decline the offer. 

“We’d love to, but we’re on our way to meet my girlfriend,” she said. “There’s some kind of art festival going on in the western part of the city, so we were just getting our caffeine fix before getting on the subway.” 

Obi-Wan really shouldn’t have felt so relieved when she said she had a girlfriend. He also shouldn’t have wondered if Anakin was an art lover himself, if he was good at drawing or painting. But he did both of those things, mind drifting until he heard Qui-Gon say his name. 

“Obi-Wan? Did you hear me?” 

Eyes snapping up to his former teacher, he raised his eyebrows in what he hoped to be casual interest to make up for the fact he’d been staring off into the distance. 

“Hm?” 

“I said that you enjoy looking at art yourself. I’m surprised you’re not going to this festival.” 

“Oh, I would love to,” he stated, “But I have some papers I still need to grade.” 

“You know, if you didn’t assign your students any work, you wouldn’t have as much to grade,” Anakin observed playfully, and his teacher laughed.

“I’m sure that would make them very happy,” he teased, “But I’m afraid I wouldn’t be a very good professor if I did that.” 

“Hey, any way I can bribe you into telling me what I got on my essay?” Anakin joked. Truth be told, Obi-Wan hadn’t even looked at it yet. He’d forced himself to wait, trying stupidly to prove to himself that he didn’t need to hang on the boy’s every word, that he should try his best to keep his mind off of him. 

“I’m afraid you’ll have to find out on monday like the rest of my students,” Obi-Wan said instead. 

“Well, if I ever do need to bribe you in the future,” the younger man continued, “I know that coffee is a good way to do it now.” 

“You wouldn’t dare use something so sacred against me.” 

“Oh, I think you’ll find that I’d dare to do a lot to get what I want.” 

Alright, Obi-Wan’s mind really shouldn’t have gone to the places it had upon hearing that statement. Biting his lip, he turned to see Qui-Gon and Padme watching the exchange with knowing, amused smiles, and he frantically searched for something else to say to change the subject. 

“Well,” he finally stated, “it looks like your coffees are ready.” And they were; the barista was placing their two drinks onto the counter, calling out “Amidala”. 

“Looks that way,” she said, nudging Anakin’s shoulder. “We’d better get going; I hate to keep Sabe waiting. But we’ll see you two later!” 

“Yeah,” Anakin agreed, looking just as sheepish as Obi-Wan felt about his previous statement. “See you guys Monday.” 

“See you soon,” Qui-Gon nodded. Taking his seat once again, he turned to Obi-Wan, arching an eyebrow and waiting until the two students had left the shop to speak. 

“You, my friend, have it bad.” 

“Oh, shut up.”


	5. Chapter 5

Anakin walked into class on Monday exactly one minute before 9:30, surprising both himself and his teacher with his perfect timing. Truly, he’d wanted to just skip class in general, but Padme had talked him into going, saying that it was important to have as good attendance as possible and that his statement yesterday wasn’t even that bad. 

He only agreed with the first of those statements. He could still see the look of embarrassed shock on his teacher’s face as he blatantly flirted with him, the pink tint to his bearded cheeks, the way he’d bit his lip, presumably with sympathy embarrassment for Anakin’s stupid choice of words. As soon as he’d said it, he’d regretted it, and he’d spent the rest of his Sunday playing the moment over in his head, thinking of things he should have said instead, thinking that Obi-Wan would think he was some kind of creep from now on. 

He’d always had the tendency to think the worst of matters, especially when they involved him royally fucking something up. His mind was constantly screaming at him for everything mistake he made, and if it wasn’t for the pills he took to help with his depression, he would’ve probably found some self-destructive behavior to use against himself. 

That Monday, he was emotionally and physically exhausted, and he barely risked a glance at his teacher in the few moments between when he took his seat and Mr. Kenobi started addressing the class. 

“Welcome back,” he greeted, receiving a half-hearted murmur from his students. “Let’s start things off by giving you back your papers, shall we?” With that, he started calling students up to the front, handing them their respective essays in alphabetical order. 

“Skywalker,” he finally said, and Anakin rose out of his chair and shuffled over to retrieve his paper. 

“Enjoy the art show?” 

Looking up from the floor, he was surprised that Obi-Wan had remembered, much less ask something so conversational. 

“Uh… Yeah. Yeah, I did,” he nodded. 

“Good to hear,” Kenobi smiled, nodding once before looking back to the few remaining papers in his hands and calling out the next name. 

Walking back to his chair, Anakin was overjoyed to see a big 93 written across the top of the paper in red ink. Letting his first smile of the day come to his lips, he scanned the little notes written in the margins, things like tips on correcting the grammar slip-ups he’d made, or sometimes a little memo that said “good point” after he’d mentioned his feelings about how the story was developing so far. Flipping to the next page, he found a note that was longer than the other ones with an arrow drawn to indicate the paragraph Anakin had set aside for his personal feelings on the book. 

Squinting his eyes, he tried his best to make out what had been written, but his teacher had probably the worst handwriting Anakin had ever seen. Try as he might, he could only pick out a few words, and he gave up after straining his eyes for a solid minute trying to puzzle it out. 

For the rest of the class, Anakin listened to the discussion on the last few chapters, and he took notes when Mr. Kenobi brought up a PowerPoint on Brooklyn during the 1920s, so the students could get more context about the setting of the novel. 

Finally, after an hour that even Anakin spent zoning out from boredom, Obi-Wan concluded the lesson and gave the reading assignment, prompting everyone to start packing up and leaving. 

Standing with the rest of his fellow classmates, Anakin hesitated before approaching his teacher, who was fiddling with the projector’s remote in an attempt to turn it off. 

“Need help with that?” Anakin asked, and sheepishly the older man handed him the device. 

“I can never figure out that blasted thing,” he sighed, watching as his student turned the projector off with ease. 

“Maybe I just have the magic touch,” he shrugged. Kenobi didn’t say anything to that, just cleared his throat and stood up from his desk. 

“Good job on your essay, by the way,” he commended. “It sounds like you’re a natural born writer.” 

At that Anakin had to laugh, arching an eyebrow and pointing at his own chest. 

“Me? A writer? I can barely string two words together without making a fool of myself,” he scoffed. 

“I don’t think that’s true,” his teacher protested. “I could tell you understood what you were talking about, and you wrote from the heart in that last paragraph of yours. Believe me, it was refreshing after reading forty other papers that essentially just blended together.” 

“Well thank you,” Anakin said, feeling the corners of his mouth lift up in a proud smile. “Hey, I actually had a question about that last paragraph. What does it say here?” He pointed to the note in question, and Obi-Wan bowed his head closer to read it over. Anakin could smell his cologne from such a short proximity, and he unconsciously took a deep breath, enjoying the clean scent of clean laundry and pine that his teacher bared. 

“Erm… Now that you mention it, I’m having trouble reading it myself,” Kenobi admitted with a small laugh. “My father always said I have doctor’s handwriting. He’s still bitter I didn’t follow in his footsteps and become a surgeon.” 

“Really? The medical field never interested you?” 

“Oh, god no,” Obi-Wan chuckled. “I would never be able to cut into someone. Or draw their blood. Or...any other kind of thing that involves me touching a bunch of strangers.”  
Anakin had to laugh at that, and the older man’s head shot up, smiling widely at the sound. 

“Wow, okay then,” Anakin chuckled. “So you stuck with teaching. Smart.” 

“Hm. As a teacher, I should be able to read what I’ve written, still,” he sighed. “I believe that note says something along the lines of commending you for working from a young age like Francie did in the novel. I can’t imagine having a job at 15.”

“You didn’t work in high school?” 

“I did, but only after I turned 18,” Obi-Wan explained. “Would you mind my asking where it was you worked?” 

“I…” Anakin hesitated, the truth balancing on the tip of his tongue. “It wasn’t really… I didn’t work for a business, per se.” 

“...Alright…” 

Anakin sighed, fiddling with the papers he still held in his hands. 

“About a week after I got my learner’s permit, I started drag racing.” 

It was almost worth admitting to doing something he wasn’t proud of to see how comically wide his teacher’s eyes got. 

“You what?” he asked disbelievingly. 

“Yeah… I was quite the speed demon,” Anakin laughed sheepishly. “It made a lot more than minimum wage, and I was really good at it. I won most of the time. But Mom found out about it after I’d been doing it for about a year and a half, so she made me quit and get a job at the movie theater in town instead.”

“I must say I agree with her choice of action,” Obi-Wan stated. “Were you ever caught?” 

“Nope,” he answered, smirking. “The cops could never catch up with me.” He had to admit that, while he wasn’t proud of drag racing, he was proud of how good he’d been at it. He’d been the only one young and stupid enough to be willing to take the risks needed to win a race, taking short cuts that led him off the paved roads, trailing through the desert paths to leave his competition in his dust, running when he saw red and blue lights go off in his rearview mirror. He’d been drunk on adrenaline until his mother followed him out one night and discovered what he’d been doing to bring so much extra cash home. 

“Hm. I just went to work at a Dairy Queen like a normal teenager,” Obi-Wan muttered, eliciting another laugh from Anakin. 

“I can’t imagine you even stepping foot into a fast food place,” he admitted. “You’re so…’refined’, I guess.” 

It was Obi-Wan’s turn to laugh now. 

“It’s the accent, isn’t it?” he asked. 

“Well, yeah, that,” Anakin said, rolling his eyes. “And your clothes are always so fancy.” 

Looking down at his outfit, Obi-Wan took in the beige pants he was wearing, then the white sweater he wore over a light pink dress shirt. 

“I have no idea what you mean. These are just comfortable.” 

“No. Mine are the comfortable ones,” the young man insisted. He was wearing blue jeans, for once, with a black hoodie that did, Obi-Wan had to admit, look warm. 

“Well. At least I vary what colors I wear,” he defended himself, “instead of having a wardrobe that consists of black, black, and more black.” 

“Black goes with everything,” Anakin shrugged. “And, hey, my pants are blue today.” 

“By some miracle, yes.” 

After this, there was a lull in conversation, when the two men were left sharing an appreciative glance. 

“Anyways,” Anakin finally sighed, “I’d better head to math before Mr. Windu chews my head off. And, hey, the fancy clothes are a nice look for you.” 

Turning on his heel, he left the room, leaving Obi-Wan feeling like a lovesick teenager, something he hadn’t felt in years. 

____________________

A month passed by, a blur of classes and students and papers he didn’t want to grade but had to. Obi-Wan went through the motions, just as he always had, but he felt...restless. When Qui-Gon asked why he’d been action so off recently, he hadn’t said anything other than the usual excuses, things like allergies and stress. But they both knew that his favorite student was the real blame. 

‘God,’ Obi-Wan sighed to himself one evening as he sat in a restaurant, eating my himself as always, ‘You have a favorite student now. They used to all just blend and blur together, but now…’ 

Anakin stood out like a star shining in the middle of a black sky. Never before had Obi-Wan been aware of how lonely his life was until he imagined what it would be like to share it with someone else, someone tall and funny and incredible intelligent. As he ate, watching the rain pour down on Coruscant outside, he imagined what a date with Anakin would be like. He’d given up trying not to think of the young man, accepting his fate and giving in to what his mind wanted. 

He decided that he would start out by taking Anakin to dinner, somewhere casual, like Dex’s Diner. They’d talk and laugh until their meals were done, and then they’d go through a walk around the city, Obi-Wan talking about how much he enjoyed living there and why his parents had decided to emigrate from England to move them to Coruscant, and Anakin would compare life in the desert to life here. He’d hang on his every word, soaking up everything he could about Anakin Skywalker like an overeager sponge. 

Then, at the end of the date, Obi-Wan would casually invite him back to his flat to make the boy some coffee. From there, they’d sit on his sofa, so close their shoulders would be brushing, and he’d rest a hand on his thigh, feeling the muscle that no doubt dwelled there. They’d blush and try to ignore the tension in the air, but then Anakin would lose patience and lean in… 

“Would you like a refill?” 

Jarred out of his fantasy, Obi-Wan looked up at the waiter, taking a moment to process what he’d been asked and nodding quickly. 

“Uh, yes. Thank you, just water would be good.” 

“Yes, sir.” 

Sighing, he rubbed his face, pushing his half-eaten plate away. God, now he was aroused and frustrated. Thinking back, he couldn’t remember the last time he’d been with anyone in any sexual context. He didn’t usually have sex unless he was dating anyone, but the last time he’d been in a relationship was three years ago with Quinlan. Since then, he’d made a trip to the occasional bar, taking some random man to a motel and releasing pent-up steam. Maybe that’s what he needed. Maybe his fixation with Anakin Skywalker was just the result of being alone and horny for too long. 

Standing up before the waiter could come back with his water, he dropped a 20 dollar bill onto the table and made his way to the door, knowing his meal had only been around $11 but not caring. He would end this right now. And it was Friday night. What better time was there to meet someone in a bar? 

_____________________

Anakin, as stated previously, had had his fair share of self-destructive habits. The drag racing was only one of them. There’s been that time junior year when he’d been dating the most dangerous guy in school. He’d thought that he was special, that he could bring out Ral’s softer side. But instead he’d just been his glorified fuck thing. 

During his time with Ral, he’d been introduced to hard liquor. Every now and then, his mother had let him have a sip of her wine, but this stuff? This was the kind of stuff that got you blackout drunk, the kind of drunk that made you wake up in a McDonald’s parking lot the next day half naked. 

After breaking up with Ral after just a few months, he’d still craved alcohol when his medication just wasn’t enough to get him out of slumps, but that craving had become more and more rare as he got closer and closer to graduating, to leaving behind his small desert town and forging a life for himself. 

Today, though? He needed a drink. 

Firstly, he’d woken up to see Rex stumbling in, attached at the mouth with some random chick he’d never heard of. To be fair, his roommate had thought Anakin was gone at Padme’s and offered to leave with Sheila (Or was it Shelly? ...Shaniqua? ...Sally?). But he’d been too embarrassed to ask them to leave, so he just packed a bag and went to his friend’s apartment, only to run into her and Sabe making out on the elevator. 

Thoroughly grossed out, he’d just decided to wander Coruscant, exploring the little shops the town had to offer. Then, though, he got a call from his stepdad, who despite having good intentions, made him feel shitty. 

Basically, he’d asked if Anakin was “still trying the school thing” and that “If it gets too tough for ya, I can always just give ya a job at the auto shop! That’s basically the same as engineering, right?”, thus reminding him of how little Cliegg believed in him. So, after all of that, he felt like he deserved a drink. And he knew exactly where to get one. 

The 21st Amendment was a bar about twenty minutes away from campus, and Anakin didn’t mind walking, marvelling at how chilly the night had become. He loved this kind of weather - not too cold but still so different from the desert temperatures he was used to. After crossing more crosswalks than he could count, he eventually arrived at the bar just after the sun had set, taking a moment to stare up at the neon blue sign hanging above the door, spelling out the establishment’s name in curling script. 

Pushing inside the door, he was immediately immersed in some quick-paced music. In the low lighting, he could see the waving shape of bodies jumping up and down to the beat, and it took him a moment to locate the bar situated at the back of the room. He’d never been to this bar before, but he’d seen it the other day when he’d been out with Padme. The name had made him laugh, and it stuck with him as they passed by it on their walk. Now, he was glad he’d chosen to come here as he took a seat at the counter, swiping hair out of his eyes and trying to look as alone as possible. 

See, he was still just a lad of 19, unable to (legally) purchase himself a drink. But there were plenty of people older than 21 who were looking to buy a pretty young thing something to drink. Hell, he might even find someone to take him home. Yeah, maybe that was just what he needed to get over the insanely stupid crush he’d developed on his teacher over the course of the last month. 

Everyday, he’d found an excuse to stay late, whether it was to ask a question or just to comment on Obi-Wan’s fancy clothes of the day. (Seriously, HOW did he pull off sweater vests? And how many did he own?) It was pretty obvious what he was doing, and he was sure Obi-Wan was just being nice as he pretended to enjoy Anakin’s company. But it didn’t stop him from trying to learn as much as he could about the older man. 

No. He wasn’t going to think about Mr. Kenobi tonight. He wasn’t. He was going to drink, maybe even dance, and have a good night to cap off his shitty day. 

“Hey there,” a voice to his left purred. Turning his head, he saw a man who looked to be about 35 leaning on the bar next to him, looking Anakin up and down like he was some kind of meal. Resisting the urge to curl his lip up, he forced himself to smile coyly and lean closer to the man. 

“Hey yourself,” he grinned, batting his eyelashes to accentuate the blue of his eyes. 

“What’s a pretty boy like yourself doing here all alone?” the man asked, resting a hand on the back of Anakin’s chair to cage him in. 

“Waiting for someone to come along and buy me a drink,” was his answer, and the man laughed softly, as if he’d said the most delightful thing in the world. 

“What are you hoping for?” 

“A long island iced tea would be nice,” Anakin shrugged, knowing that it was one of the more expensive drinks. But, it had about five different kinds of liquor in it, and he was a light weight. That would be plenty to send him over the edge into tipsy, and if he played his cards right, he could probably get about three drinks out of this guy before he realized Anakin wasn’t going to put out for him. 

“I’ll have a long island,” the man said to the barkeep. “Top shelf.” 

Nodding, the bartender started making the drink, handing it to Anakin quickly before turning to another patron. 

Taking the cold glass in hand, Anakin started sipping on it quickly, wanting to feel weightless as fast as possible. 

“Wow,” his companion observed. “Rough day?” 

“You could say that,” he admitted. “It’s better now, though.” 

“Fuck yeah it is.” 

He had to fight back a laugh at how confident this guy was. Looking him over, Anakin took in his messy clothes and receding hairline, not feeling one spark of attraction for him. He just shrugged it off, though, and kept working on his drink, listening to the man as he started prattling on about the stress of his office job and how he’d caught his wife cheating on him the previous week. Ah, so Anakin was to be a rebound fuck. No, thanks. 

Out of the corner of his vision, he saw someone settle down into the seat on his right, but he didn’t think anything of it until he heard a familiar, posh accent say, “I’ll have a bourbon neat, please.” 

Gulping, Anakin turned his head to the side ever so slightly, and sure enough, he caught the distinctive flash of the strawberry blonde beard he’d fantasized about feeling against his thighs so many times. 

Obi-Wan fucking Kenobi. 

“I-I,” he stuttered in a quiet tone, praying that he wouldn’t be found out, least of all by his teacher. “I have to go.” Chugging down the rest of his drink, he made to stand up, but his companion grabbed his arm. 

“Woah, so soon? Where you going?” He looked mildly ticked off, and Anakin’s head swam as his drink began kicking in. 

“I forgot, I have to be somewhere,” he slurred, struggling to pull his arm away. “Sorry.” He managed to yank his arm away and stand up straight, but it was clear the other man wasn’t handling the rejection very well. 

“Hey, I didn’t buy you a fucking drink just to have you leave,” he said angrily, grabbing Anakin’s wrist and dragging him back. Anakin felt the cool metal of the bar dig into his back, and he twisted his head around to see that, yes, he’d been spotted. 

Blue eyes met blue eyes as Anakin and Obi-Wan stared at each other, both expressions holding the same shock as they took the other one in. The moment only lasted for a second, though, as the man who’d bought Anakin’s drink gripped his chin and forced his lips down onto the boy’s. 

Struggling, he flailed, trying to push him away, but in the end it was Obi-Wan who made the move, grabbing the man by his collar and wrenching him away from his student. Standing from his seat, he dragged the man away, letting him go once he had his body between him and Anakin. 

“He told you no,” he stated in a warning tone. 

“And why the fuck is this any of your business?” the man protested, pressing his chest against Obi-Wan’s as they faced off. They were about the same height, but Kenobi was the one that looked most intimidating. A deep fury raged within his eyes, and his voice shook as he spoke next. 

“Get out. Now. I’m telling you politely,” he warned. His hands were clenched into fists, and Anakin didn’t know if he was feeling scared for or of his teacher. He never would have guessed he could look like that, and while it was concerning, the drunk part of his brain, which was slowly becoming all of it, whispered that it was incredibly sexy. 

“Y’don’t seem very polite to me,” was the other man’s response, and he roughly shoved Obi-Wan back, so hard that he almost fell against Anakin’s chest. He caught his balance, however, and took a step forward. And another. Until he stood right before the man, still as a statue. 

“Why’re you even defending that slut-”

As soon as that last word left his lips, Obi-Wan was rearing back and punching him, right in the center of the nose, so hard and so sudden that it knocked the man onto his ass as blood poured from his nostrils. He lay there on the ground, and Anakin realized with a jolt that Obi-Wan had knocked him out in one punch. Obi-Wan. Mr. Kenobi, the sweater-wearing English professor had knocked him out in one punch. 

Shaking his hand out, the teacher in question turned to Anakin and said, in a tone that he knew meant business, “Come with me.” 

With that, he stepped around the unconscious man and headed for the back door, and Anakin knew better than to delay in obeying the order. Following him closely, they both pushed outside into the cold night, the door shutting behind them with a squeal before leaving them to their silence. 

For a long time, Obi-Wan didn’t say anything, just leaned back against the brick wall and looked up at the stars. Anakin took him in in that moment, traced the line of his throat with his eyes, the way his adam’s apple bobbed as he swallowed. His hands were shoved into his jean pockets. ‘He’s wearing jeans,’ Anakin registered. Just jeans, a white t-shirt, and a black leather jacket. His knees were weak, and his inhibitions were lowered just enough to make him want to lean forward and-

“What the hell were you doing?” 

Obi-Wan’s tone was sharp enough to shake him out of his thoughts, and he took a long second to try and string together an acceptable excuse. 

“I needed a drink,” he managed, trying desperately not to reveal how tipsy he was. 

“Are you 21?” 

“...” Anakin kept silent, which was all the answer his teacher needed. Heaving a sigh, Kenobi dragged a hand over his face, his exasperation clear. 

“Why? Why did you do something so utterly stupid?” 

That...stung. Anakin was taken aback by the comment, and tears threatened to spill over his eyelids as he tried to blink them away. But why? Why did this guy’s opinion matter so much to him? Why did it hurt so much? Pain turned to anger within the blink of an eye, and he turned on his heel and started charging down the alleyway. 

“Anakin,” he heard behind him, but he payed it no heed, even when the voice repeated his name once again, louder. 

“Anakin!” 

He only stopped when he felt a hand grab his shoulder, and he turned around, using his height to his advantage to loom over his professor. 

“I did it because I’m fucking alone,” he growled. “Padme was with her fucking girlfriend today; everyone back home thinks I’m doomed for failure, and you know why? You said it yourself. I’m fucking stupid. And I wanted to forget how stupid I am for just one fucking night.-”

“Anakin.” 

“And then you had to fucking step in and remind me. Yeah, I know this was stupid, I know everything that I do is stupid.” 

“Anakin, I-”

“Why are you even pretending to care about someone as stupid as me? Why do you talk to me like I’m anything other than an idiot that wastes your time?” 

“ANAKIN!” 

He felt himself being pushed back into a wall, and he looked down to see Obi-Wan watching him with a pained and angered expression. They both stared at each other like that for a long moment, their breaths visible in the cold, until Anakin’s teacher finally spoke in a voice so soft he almost couldn’t hear it. 

“I shouldn’t have called you stupid,” he admitted. “Even though, yes, this wasn’t a wise decision on your part. But you’re...so far from dumb, Anakin. I can’t believe you can’t see that. And you want to know why I act like I care? It’s because I do. I like you, Anakin, can’t you see that?” 

The student was struck silent as his teacher regarded him with a soft expression, voice soothing his initial hurt with every word he said. 

“You...like me?” he asked. “How? How do you like me?” 

“I just said, Anakin. You’re smart, and-”

“No, I don’t mean that,” he protested, raising a shaky hand up to his teacher’s cheek. “Do you like me only as your student? Because…” He trailed off, licked his lips, watching Obi-Wan’s eyes snap down to his mouth at the movement. “Because I like you...so much more than just as a teacher.” 

A strange look passed over Kenobi’s features. It was as if Anakin had just given him water after spending days without it in the desert. His eyes closed, and his lips parted as he processed those words, and Anakin thought to himself, ‘God, I wish I could kiss him right now.’ 

And so he did. He leaned down, pressed his palms against Obi-Wan’s beard, and kissed him.


	6. Chapter 6

For a moment, Obi-Wan’s mind was foggy with pure bliss as Anakin’s lips pressed against his. His eyes were closed and his mouth was parted, and he felt a warm tongue slide against his. Groaning softly, he gripped the fabric of Anakin’s shirt, trying to pull him as close as possible, inhaling his scent of alcohol and deodorant. 

He hadn’t gotten an opportunity to drink anything that evening, but it felt as if he had. His head seemed to buzz as he fulfilled his fantasy of tasting Anakin Skywalker’s lips, and he was able to forget everything. The world faded into the background until he was able to convince himself that it was just him and this beautiful man he was kissing, floating amongst the stars like comets. 

But comets eventually crash into moons and planets, shaking them to their cores and exploding into bits and pieces. That’s what it felt like as reality came back to the older man, his lips pausing as his voice of reason screamed at him from within his mind. ‘He’s your student!’ it cried. ‘He is your young, inebriated student; what the fuck are you doing?’

Pushing against Anakin’s chest, Obi-Wan stumbled back, panting and looking at the other man with wide, disbelieving eyes. 

“I-I,” he stuttered, words for once failing him. “I’m… I’m so sorry.” 

“What?” his student asked, eyebrows drawn together in confusion. “What’s wrong? That was perfect, Obi-”

“I’m your teacher!” he exclaimed, rubbing his temples. “I’m your older teacher, and you’re my drunken, young student, and we should not be doing this!” 

“But… But we like each other,” Anakin protested weakly, taking a step forward. Once again, tears pricked at his blue eyes, and he reached a hand out to cup Obi-Wan’s cheek. He dodged, the contact, though, turning his head to the side and pressing a hand over Anakin’s heart to keep him at a distance. 

“Anakin, you don’t understand right now because you’re drunk,” he explained, trying to keep his voice calm. “But we should not have done that. I shouldn’t have taken advantage of your situation-”

“Hey, I’m the one that kissed you-”

“And I think it would be a good idea for each of us to go home,” he finished, trying to appear stern. 

“Great,” Anakin responded stubbornly, that anger of his flaring up. “Your place or mine?” 

“You know damned well what I mean,” his teacher chastised, getting out his phone. “I’m calling you us each an Uber, and we’re going to go to our respective beds and pretend like this never happened.” 

“No,” Anakin growled. “You are. You’re going to get over this and forget me, and I’m going to have to walk into your classroom everyday thinking about how fucking soft your lips are. And how fucking good you taste-”

“Stop it,” Obi-Wan ordered, voice soft but more forceful than Anakin had ever heard it. “This will be hard on me, too, Anakin. But we could both get in serious trouble if we made any rash decisions. I’m not willing to risk that, for both our sakes. Now. What is your address?” 

“Don’t bother,” the younger man grumbled, brushing past his teacher. “I’ll walk.” 

“I don’t think that’s a good idea-”

“I don’t care what you think,” he lied, walking briskly with his longer legs to get away from Obi-Wan as fast as possible. 

He sighed, watching the boy’s figure disappear into the night, a sinking feeling overwhelming him until he thought he’d double over in pain. He hated him now; Anakin hated Obi-Wan, and there wasn’t a thing he could do about it. What stung even more was knowing that Anakin would probably blame himself for the whole thing later on when it was Obi-Wan’s fault. He shouldn’t have kissed him back, but fuck if the boy’s lips weren’t as intoxicating as the liquor he’d been drinking. They were like a drug specifically designed for Obi-Wan, and he was hooked after just one taste. 

Starting the trek back to his apartment, he settled on stopping by a liquor store and picking out a cheap bottle of wine that he was sure would taste like bitter Kool-Aid. It would get the job done, though. 

When he finally threw his clothes off and collapsed on his mattress, having drank half the bottle on the way there, he replayed the kiss in his mind. Knowing he would feel awful about it later, he pictured what might have happened if he hadn’t pushed him away, if he and Anakin had piled into a cab and gone back to his apartment, tongues clashing as he pushed the younger man down onto the sofa. They would want each other so badly that they wouldn’t even be able to make it to the bed before undoing the other’s belt, tugging at their clothes until finally, finally they were both naked, skin sliding against skin perfectly. 

His own hand brushed down to his cock as he pictured laying on top of Anakin, between his legs, grinding his hips down hard until his name was a moan on the other man’s lips. A moan escaped his mouth as he started to stroke himself, imagining Anakin in all manner of positions, on his hands and knees, on his belly, on his back… In all of his fantasies, though, he was fucking him hard until they both were groaning, grunting, telling the other how good it felt and how right it was and how, yes, God, they wanted this… 

With a cry, he came over his fist, vision going white and ears ringing with the moans he wished he was hearing from his student, or rather, his obsession at this point. His chest was heaving as he imagined what Anakin’s beautiful face would look like in the moment of his release, if he would moan Obi-Wan’s name so loud the neighbors would hear. 

As soon as he came down from his high, his ears started burning with shame, and he got up to wash away the evidence of his depravity despite how wobbly his legs felt. It was just a fantasy, and that’s all it ever would be, even though he knew now that Anakin felt the same way.

____________________

Anakin regretted everything the minute he woke up the next morning. His head was pounding, and the memory of the kiss came crashing down on him like a tidal wave. God, how much of an idiot was he?! His cheeks were a bright pink as he was filled with shame and disbelief at his own actions, sure that he would relish the sweet embrace of death rather than deal with the ramifications of trying to jump his teacher in an alleyway. 

“Woah,” Rex observed, smirking as he brewed a fresh pot of coffee. “You look like you woke up from one hell of a dream.” 

“Yeah,” Anakin mumbled, sitting up slowly and wishing the room would stop spinning. Oh, yeah, on top of hating his entire existence and every single decision he’d made the day before, he was hungover. “You could say I had a pretty crazy night.” 

“Atta boy,” Rex laughed. “Looks like you need some aspirin and a friend to tell that story to.” 

“Maybe,” he shrugged, pulling himself out of bed. “Or a therapist.” 

“Ohhhh, so by crazy you don’t mean you got laid?” 

“Far from it,” Anakin grunted, pulling some pain killers out of his bedside table. “I ended up being the cause of a bar fight and then rejected in an alleyway.” 

“Sheesh, Skywalker,” his roommate chuckled. “I’d say it sounds like you need a drink, but I think you should stay off the sauce for a while.”

“Yeah, I’m inclined to agree,” he responded, hauling himself to his feet. “God, I smell like-”

“You smell like a heaping pile of shit that’s been sprayed with a perfume made from “essence of alcohol and alleyway scum”,” Rex provided cheerfully. “But that’s nothing a shower can’t fix. It’ll clear your head, too.” 

“I guess,” Anakin sighed, getting his toiletry bag together and slinging a towel over his shoulder. “Hopefully I don’t do anything stupid on the way.” 

“Well it’s just down the hall, so I don’t think you’ll have anything to worry about.”

“You’d be surprised.” 

With that, the young man headed down to the bathroom, cheeks still flushed with shame. Going through the motions of showering was easy; he just wished he could wash away his memories along with the grime clinging to his body. As he scrubbed the shampoo into his hair, scratching his scalp with his nails roughly, he replayed the kiss in his mind, remembering all that he could of how Obi-Wan’s lips had felt. They’d been a bit chapped, and his beard had scratched against his cheek in a strangely pleasant way; he wouldn’t have changed a second of it, especially after he tasted his teacher’s tongue as it slid against his. He would, however, change everything about what had happened after that sparkling moment. 

He’d kissed Anakin back, he now realized, rinsing the suds from his hair before picking up his conditioner. He’d kissed him back so fiercely that it had taken his breath away, and his head had spun with hislipshisbreathshisbody all of the sensations blending together into something more intoxicating than his long island iced tea. But then he was stumbling away, saying he’d taken advantage of him, that he didn’t understand. But he had. He’d felt the mirror of his own feelings within Obi-Wan, and he’d drowned in it for a few swirling seconds. 

What did this mean? Did Obi-Wan really want him? Had it been just as hard for him to push Anakin back as it had been for him to walk away? And if so, did Anakin stand a chance to maybe, by some miracle, convince him to give into his feelings? 

“You're pathetic, Skywalker,” he murmured. Even after being rejected, he wanted him. So much that he’d be willing to get on his knees and beg the man to give him a chance. Get on his knees and lean forward, unzipping those khakis he always insisted on wearing, the ones that made his ass look-

“Stop,” he groaned, tempted to slap himself until he passed out from self-induced blunt force trauma. Now was not the time to fantasize about giving Kenobi a blow job. He had to figure out how he was going to walk into his English class on Monday without literally dying of shame. 

Finally turning the shower off, he roughly shook out his hair and dried off, wrapping his towel around his waist before heading back to his room with his bag tucked under his arm. Rex was in there, laying across his bed on his stomach as he tapped away at his phone, but he looked up when his mostly-naked roommate came wandering back in. 

“Hey, get dressed,” he ordered. “I can tell you’re going to be a bummer for a long time if I don’t take action quickly, so I’m treating you to the Duble Family 100% Guaranteed Hangover Cure Experience. And that’s trademarked, so don’t even think about stealing it for yourself.” 

Anakin had a million questions about this “hangover cure experience”, but he was too, well, hungover to ask them. So instead, with hazy and puffy eyes, he met Rex’s gaze and nodded, speaking with a defeated monotone. 

“Ok, Rex. Cure me, then.”


	7. Chapter 7

Anakin had spent the last five minutes looking at himself in the mirror, trying to adjust his appearance until it was perfect, right down to every detail. Well... at least as perfect as was possible. He was wearing some tight dark jeans, as usual, but his shirt was a sky blue sweater, its neckline dipping low and wide to show off his collarbones. His hair was situated half up, half down, as he’d worn it so often while working at his stepdad’s garage. Today, though, he wasn’t wearing it like that in the hopes of catching a breeze to relieve him of Arizona’s oppressive heat, but rather to show off the skin of his neck, perpetually tan like the rest of him. A pair of black Vans finished the look, and after debating over whether or not to wear the bracelet Padme had given him junior year (he decided against it, not wanting his hands to constantly be spinning it around his wrist to reveal just how nervous he felt), he was ready to walk into Obi-Wan’s classroom. 

Grabbing his backpack, he made his way out of the dorm, calling a goodbye to Rex over his shoulder. He’d spent a large part of the weekend getting to know his roommate, and he had the feeling that they’d continue to grow ever closer as the semester wore on. 

Rex’s hangover cure had simply consisted of him and Anakin meeting his twin brother, Cody, at a local breakfast joint for one of the greasiest, cheesiest omelets Anakin had ever consumed. It had helped, though, strangely enough, as had the company he had. Cody and Rex had joked with him, telling him stories of their childhood until he was laughing, all worries about Obi-Wan and their kiss pushed away from his mind in favor of lighter subjects. 

“Oh, yeah,” he remembered Cody drawling fondly. “Rex and I loved to freak our teachers out back in grade school.”

“We wouldn’t tell ‘em we had a twin,” Rex had cut in, “And Cody would sneak into their classroom during recess and wait behind a cupboard. When the class would come back in, I’d go up to the teacher and ask to go to the bathroom, and then I’d make sure she saw me leave. And then-”

“Then I would pop up from behind the cupboard and tap on her shoulder from behind,” Cody finished with a loud laugh that shook his shoulders, drawing the attention of half the restaurant’s patrons. “She’d turn around and just… God, the looks on their faces.” 

“Honest to God, one of the older ones crossed herself,” Rex guffawed, slapping his brother on the shoulder. “We got into so much trouble.”

“Sounds like it was worth it, though,” Anakin had smiled. 

After their breakfast, the three of them had walked back to campus, wandering around and talking about nothing in particular until Anakin had to go to his shift at the bookstore. The next day, Anakin had finally gone over to Padme’s place and told her what happened. After recovering from her initial shock, she was just as supportive as his new friends had been, although instead of stuffing him with funny stories and greasy food, she’d made dinner for the both of them and put on The Princess Bride, a movie which Anakin never failed to smile at. 

“Well,” she’d sighed at the end of the night, sipping some of the wine Sabe had bought her, “at least you know he likes you back.” 

“I mean, on some level,” Anakin had shrugged. “He still pushed me away.” 

“Anakin, what would have happened if he hadn’t?” 

“I don’t think you want me to go into detail about what I’d hoped to do to him in that alley.” 

“Gross!” she’d shrieked, swatting his shoulder. “That’s not what I meant! So, yeah, maybe you guys would’ve hooked up. But then what? Would you have started some secret relationship with your English professor? What if you guys were found out? He could get fired, Anakin. And you would’ve been torn apart by idiots who thought you were just sleeping around to get an A.” 

He’d initially bristled at her words, but as he turned them over in his head, they made sense to him. As much as he wished it was otherwise, there were too many risks to be taken in order to have a relationship with Obi-Wan. He repeated the words in his mind, seeing clearly the logic within them, slowly understanding why his teacher had pushed him away and why it wasn’t a good idea to try anything else with him. 

He’d nodded and told Padme she was right, because she was. She always was. They’d hugged, and he’d made the walk back to his dorm, feeling the cool breeze chill his exposed face and neck, the only parts of himself not swathed in black fabric. He knew that it was a bad idea to pursue Kenobi, knew it like he knew the sun would rise and fall every day for the rest of his life. 

The thing is, though, he didn’t care. 

And so now he walked into Mr. Kenobi’s classroom, right as the minute hand ticked to 9:30 on the clock that hung high on the wall above the white board covered in the teacher’s barely-legible scrawl. Pushing down the embarrassment that threatened to claw its way up his throat, he took his seat quietly and lifted his chin up as he finally looked to the older man as he stood before his classroom of students. 

Kenobi, for once, didn’t look as put together as Anakin did. It wasn’t noticeable to those who hadn’t paid much attention to how he usually was dressed, but Anakin had spent hours leaning forward in his seat, skating his eyes over Obi-Wan’s form, stashing away everything he could, saving those moments in time like a miser saves coins. 

And so, today, his blue eyes took in the way his teacher’s shirt wasn’t tucked into his slacks, how there was no sweater or vest to cover the plain white dress shirt stretched across his torso. How the man’s reading glasses were set on his desk instead of hanging off his shirt’s neckline, where they would be easily accessible in case he needed them. Also, bags hung under his lower eyelids, not big enough to indicate many sleepless nights, but enough for Anakin to know that something was weighing heavily on his mind. 

And he had a sneaking suspicion that he knew what that thing was. 

“Alright,” Kenobi finally sighed, drawing his students’ attention to him. “So, if you’re on track with your reading assignments, you should be on the last three chapters of The Great Gatsby. Now, instead of giving you all a test like I did for A Tree Grows In Brooklyn, I’m going to have you all write essays on the use of color within the book.

“F. Scott Fitzgerald is known for using color to symbolize mood, in this book particularly. And so I want you to choose one, look up their traditional representations and meanings within literature, and analyze how that is portrayed over the course of the book.” 

At this he paused, eyes scanning the people in front of him. Anakin sat up straighter, ready for the moment when their irises would meet, hoping to send a look of peace, of friendliness. But those gray-blue orbs skipped over him completely instead of lingering on him like they usually did, and the teacher simply spoke once more, in a tone that held within it a deep weariness that had Anakin’s eyebrows scrunching together in concern. 

“Minimum of five pages,” Kenobi concluded. “Pick up a paper with the rest of the requirements on your way out. I’ll expect them on my desk no later than Thursday. For now, you’re dismissed early.” 

With that, a surprised murmur was let out collectively before young adults were standing from their seats and heading towards the tall stack of pages resting on the corner of their professor's desk. Anakin stood with them, but he lingered by his chair, shifting on his feet nervously as he watched the older man slump into his chair, pointedly looking down at his hands as they fiddled with his glasses in a rare display of anxiety. 

After just about a minute, there was no one left but the two of them, and before Anakin could even open his mouth to speak, the soft voice of his teacher was heard cutting through the silence. 

“Mr. Skywalker, I’m feeling quite tired, so if you could just email me any questions about the assignment you might have-”

“Nuh-uh,” he interrupted, taking a few slow steps forward until he was standing before the desk. “You’re not gonna do that.” 

Obi-Wan heaved a sigh, scrubbing one hand down his face and squeezing the bridge of his nose. 

“I have no idea what you-”

“Obi-Wan,” Anakin insisted, keeping his tone gentle. “Look at me. Please, just...just look at me.” 

A long moment passed of him watching that reddish head of hair, still resolutely pointed downwards, and he was poised to walk around the desk and kneel in front of him just to get his attention until, at last, Kenobi’s face tilted upwards, meeting his gaze with a deep, resounding tiredness coming from deep within his eyes. 

“Obi-Wan,” he said again, leaning down a bit, “Look, I’m sorry for what happened. I was drunk, and I never would have launched myself at you like that if I wasn’t so shitfaced.” 

A dull pain twinged in his expression, but the older man quickly put on a face of solemn agreement. 

"Yes, I-"

“I’m not done,” Anakin interrupted once more. “I shouldn’t have been at that bar, and I want you to know that I’m not going to do that anymore. I’ll wait till I’m 21 like the rest of the population and try my best not to instigate any bar fights. 

“That said and out of the way,” he then sighed, straightening up and gathering his courage, “I want you to know that the feelings behind the kiss were genuine. I like you. I like you so much that I can barely go five minutes without thinking about you. And...and I know that there would be risks to being together, more on your side than mine, so that’s why I’m leaving the ball in your court. If you like me too, and you’re willing to risk it, then I’d like to see where this goes. But if not, then we can part as friends and I won’t bother you about it again.” 

Taking a deep breath, he opened his eyes, not having realized that he’d closed them at some point during his rant. The look on Kenobi’s face...he wished he’d had a picture of it. His lips were parted, surprise painting his features almost as prettily as the blush that was tinting his bearded cheeks. The muscles in his throat rolled as he swallowed, causing Anakin’s eyes to dart down and take in that moment before shooting back to his professor’s. 

“Anakin,” Obi-Wan’s smooth accent finally enunciated, and the younger man was once again struck by how much he loved the way he said his name. “My feelings for...for you are very complex. And I’m flattered by your feelings for me, but...there are so many factors working against any possibility of us exploring our mutual attraction for one another.”

“I know,” Anakin nodded. “Believe me, I’ve thought it all over. And, like I said, no hard feelings if you don’t wanna take the risk. But… Here.” At this, he paused and leaned over the desk, reaching for a pen and a stack of sticky notes he saw lying next to the keyboard. Hastily scrawling a series of numbers onto the top one, he tore it off and handed it over to Obi-Wan. 

“That’s my number,” he supplied. “Think it over. Feel free to call or text or whatever if you make a decision. Till then...we’re ok?” 

Upon hearing that question, Kenobi’s head shot up from where he’d been studying the note and took a moment before nodding, his lips twitching up into a small smile, the first Anakin had seen all day. 

“We’re ok, Anakin,” he affirmed softly, reaching out and grabbing one of Anakin’s hands, giving it a soft squeeze before letting it go. He immediately missed the touch, but he shrugged it off, flashing a tight smile to his teacher before shoving his hands into his pockets. 

“Well, then,” he stated. “I’d better get going. See you around, Obi-Wan.” 

As he turned and left, he heard a soft “See you” follow him, and it was with a smile that he walked into his next class, a glimmer of hope burning in his chest that he decided, for now, he’d trust.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Anakin gives 0 fucks about the rules.


	8. Chapter 8

Four days came and went, finding Obi-Wan in his apartment, sitting by the fire as rain poured down outside. Papers were strewn around him, and while he realized that there was plenty of space for the essays on his couch, he was comfortable where he was in that moment. The floor in front of him was doing a fine job at holding the various stacks the papers were being sorted into.

Thus far, there had only been one essay he’d deemed to give an A for, the majority of the assignments falling into the B’s or C’s stacks, with two finding their unfortunate way to the F’s category. Truly, Obi-Wan was used to having much more failures, especially in essay assignments, so he was pleasantly surprised that the majority of his class seemed to be passing.

Picking up the next paper, his heart did a tiny flip in his chest upon seeing that it was Anakin’s. Skimming his eyes over the title, which read “Why The Great Gatsby Was So Blue”, he smiled softly. Leave it to Anakin to weave a pun into a graded essay. So he’d chosen to write about Fitzgerald’s use of the color blue within his novel, an appropriate choice, considering the cerulean of the boy’s irises. The sweater he’d worn on Monday had made them absolutely pop, especially contrasted to the tanned skin of his face and neck. It had been a struggle unlike any other to ignore how stunning his student had looked, and Obi-Wan was still proud that he hadn’t spent that class gawking at Skywalker like a love-struck teen. 

And, oh, how surprised he’d been when Anakin had approached him after being dismissed. The boy had basically said he didn’t give a fuck about the rules, true, but he’d said it in such a mature way that Kenobi couldn’t help but feel tempted to dial the number he’d been given and beg his student to kiss him again. He’d spent the majority of his free time thinking it over, fondling the folded-up sticky note in his pocket as he thought of the pro’s and con’s of pursuing something with the boy. And, Obi-Wan being Obi-Wan, he’d actually sat down yesterday after another class spent pining after Anakin and written them down in a well-organized list. The con’s greatly outweighed the positives; it was clear to see, how they dominated the right side of the paper, seeming to shout at him, berating Obi-Wan for the temptation he was faced with.

Now, though, he tried to put that away from his mind as he read what the boy had to say. A small smile perched itself upon his lips; Anakin really was a gifted writer. Of course, his grammar wasn’t perfect, and he winced at the spelling mistakes peppered throughout the paper, but there was no denying the sincerity behind what he’d written. His feelings were made clear in every line, expressing his opinion and turning it into a powerful analysis on the mood brought to the book by the color blue.

He had to pause at one point and reread one of the lines, though, wondering if he’d simply imagined it was there. But, no, there it sat, typed out in the dark blue ink Anakin had chosen to print his assignment on.

“In conclusion, the color blue can represent sadness; we all know that. But it also can make us feel calm, reflective, and at peace. Looking up at the sky, or into the eyes of an attractive English teacher (just as an example), we’re left feeling tranquil. I think that Fitzgerald used blue to contradict the wildness of most of the book. Nick is pulled on a whirlwind of parties and scandals throughout the story, but here and there we have moments of blue, moments of clarity that makes us stop and think about whether or not Gatsby had really attained happiness, or if he was still missing something simple, something that was right under his nose - the peace that comes when being with someone you love. Or, you know, someone that you really really like and would like to perhaps date.” 

At that, Anakin concluded his essay, and despite the dark blush that was tinting Kenobi’s cheeks, he had to let out a soft laugh when he read the last part. How Anakin to have finished a skillful analysis on that note. Picking up the black pen he’d been using to fix the boy’s grammar mistakes, he jotted down a quick note before he could talk himself out of it, tucking it away in the A’s stack. For the rest of the day, he felt a lightness within him that he hadn’t felt since Quinlan, and he made it a point to add something to the pro’s side of his ongoing list. 

“He makes me smile.”

________________________

Anakin tapped his foot nervously as he waited for class to begin, spinning his pencil around his fingers as he watched Obi-Wan’s back as he wrote on the whiteboard. Today’s fancy clothes consisted of a light blue collared shirt covered by a long-sleeved navy blue sweater, and Anakin wondered if his teacher’s choice of dress had anything to do with his essay. Honestly, he hadn’t known what had possessed him to do that, to flirt with his professor via a graded assignment. But his better judgement hadn’t kicked in until after he’d done the think, as per freakin usual. 

So now he waited anxiously to see if he was going to be punished for his inappropriate behavior. What could Kenobi do to him? Fail him on the assignment? Report him to the Dean? Mr. Yoda didn’t seem to be that intimidating, what with the fact that he stood at about five feet tall and hobbled around on a cane that looked almost as ancient as he was. But still, the thought of being reprimanded by him made his stomach churn, and so he continued spinning his pencil and tapping his foot. That is, until his pencil spun right out of his hand and flew right into Obi-Wan’s back. 

Spinning around, the teacher in question arched an eyebrow at him before looking down at the green pencil resting at his feet. Stooping down to pick it up, he slowly walked around his desk and held it out to Anakin. 

“You know,” he mused, watching as the boy took it back with a blush deeper than any shade of red he’d seen a person turn, “there are other ways to get my attention, the most conventional of which being to raise your hand.” 

“I-I didn’t mean to-”

“I know, Anakin,” Obi-Wan interrupted with a small smile, leaning down a little to speak in a quieter tone. “Relax. You look like someone is about to physically assault you.” 

At that, the professor winked at him, actually fucking winked at him, and returned to the front of the classroom just as the clock read 9:30, leaving Anakin’s eyes to wander down to his ass before spinning on his heel to address the class. 

“Well, you all should be pleased to know that the majority of you made at least an 80 on your essays,” he started out. “In fact, only three of you got any less than that. So you’re to be commended; it’s been the first time in years I’ve had such a high success rate in one of my classes. So, as a reward, I’m not going to give you all the quiz I was planning on handing out on the first few chapters of Their Eyes Were Watching God.” 

A pleased hum was heard from the students, and a few of them actually cheered upon hearing the news. Kenobi smiled warmly at that, taking his seat behind his desk and fiddling with his computer. 

“I’ll hand out the essays at the end of class, but for now, I have a video on the culture of the 1930’s, specifically in the South. Just to give you some background on the setting of this novel,” Obi-Wan continued, putting on his reading glasses as he pulled up the link and turned the projector on. As always, he fumbled with the tiny remote until, finally, the video could be seen. Standing once more, he cut out the lights and took a seat, shifting through some papers as the short documentary played. 

Anakin, for his part, really did try to pay attention. But, after the first five minutes of listening to the narrator’s voice drone on and on about society’s expectations on men and women alike, he tuned out, eyes falling to his teacher as they usually did when he was bored. 

This time, however, he was surprised to see Obi-Wan staring back at him, a small, almost mischievous smile gracing his features. Anakin smiled back, giving a little wave which was returned to him. Pointing at the images being projected onto the clean side of the board, he mouthed, “Seriously?” 

Tilting his head to the side, Kenobi sent him a questioning look, so Anakin decided to clarify what he meant by letting his head loll to the side, pretending to snore for a moment before opening his eyes and straightening up. A silent laugh shook the older man’s shoulders, but he just shrugged and mouthed back something that looked like, “Pay attention.” 

Rolling his eyes, Anakin turned to his open notebook, pretending to take notes while really just doodling. He was almost finished with a drawing of a violin when the lights turned back on, causing him to squint and realize he’d been zoned out for the past twenty minutes. 

“Well, now that you know what the culture was like during our story,” Kenobi sighed, “perhaps you’ll have a greater understanding of what Janie goes through as a woman and a wife in this time period. Anyways, that will be all for today. Read to chapter seven and be ready for a quiz come Wednesday. Until then, I’ll let you take home your essays.” 

At this point, he picked up a stack of papers from his desk and started calling out the names of his students in alphabetical order, making Anakin one of the last people to be summoned to the front. Shouldering his backpack, he walked up and took the essay from his teacher, ready to file out as the others before him had. 

“Oh, Anakin?” He paused, turning around to see Kenobi smiling at him. 

“Good job on your essay, once again,” he commended. “See you on Wednesday.” 

Feeling as if a swarm of butterflies had taken up residence in his chest cavity, he flashed a brilliant smile for his teacher and turned back around, waiting until he was outside to start skimming through his paper, looking for any notes. And there, on the last page, he found one. 

Where he’d written “the eyes of an attractive English teacher”, an arrow had been drawn to a memo that read “Or, for instance, an attractive English student”. A giggle burst past his lips, and he felt as if he needed to run directly to Padme’s apartment, bang on her door, and shove the note under her nose, showing her that yes, Obi-Wan Kenobi thought he was attractive. 

He was pulled out of his emotional high, however, when he felt his phone buzz in his pocket. Taking it out, he grinned impossibly wider when he saw an unfamiliar number come up on his caller ID; he knew, he just knew, that it was Obi-Wan finally calling him. 

“Hello there,” he spoke into the receiver after picking up. However, he was met, not with the smooth English accent that still never failed to make him weak in the knees, but with the panicked voice of what he recognized to be his step-brother, Owen. 

“A-anakin? It’s Owen. You, uh… I… It’s your mom. Something happened and.... How fast can you get back to Tatooine?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> LET ME KNOW WHAT YOU THINK


	9. Chapter 9

Numb. That’s the only way to describe how he felt as he stood over his mother’s beaten and bruised form. Numb to the world, numb to the cold air of the hospital, numb to the heart monitor as it beat in a rhythm he knew to be far too slow. Numb. So different from the blind panic he’d been in to get there. 

A hit and run, that’s what Owen had said into the staticy receiver of the hospital’s landline. Someone had hit his mom with their car and left her to bleed out into the sand, only to be found hours later when Cleigg went to look for her. He’d immediately taken off sprinting to his dorm, haphazardly throwing clothes into his duffel bag as he called Padme. He’d had no idea how he would afford a plane ticket to Arizona; sure, he had some money saved up, but not nearly enough to handle it. 

But Padme, being the angel she was, had met him at the airport, shoving a bundle of cash she’d borrowed from her parents into his trembling hands. He’d tried to protest, but she’d only pulled him into a bone-crushing hug, whispering, “Don’t think about it. You can pay me back by telling Shmi I love her and to get better.” 

And so here he stood, several hours later in the same clothes he’d been wearing in his English class, watching the person he loved most in the world fight for every shuddering breath making its way into her lungs. The panic had faded when he’d walked into the depressing scene waiting for him. Cleigg sat in a chair close to her bedside, clutching her pale hand as the occasional tear dripped down his face. Owen sat in the corner with his girlfriend, holding her in his embrace as he watched his father in his grief. 

All the while, Anakin stood, not wanting to sit down, instead balancing on legs that felt as if they were going to give out at any moment. He’d watched her lay there for at least an hour before anything happened, before her kind eyes fluttered open to lock onto his. 

Startled out of the fog that had descended onto his mind, he lurched forward, grabbing her free hand between both of his and managing a small, forced smile. 

“It’s me, Mom,” he stated, voice trembling. Her face melted into a smile that was soaked in the love only a parent can feel for their child. 

“Ani? My Ani?” she croaked, looking over his face as if to memorize it. “Why...why aren’t you in school?” 

“I came to see you, Mom,” he whispered, tucking some hair behind her ear. “Came to make sure you’re ok. You’re going to be ok.” He added this last bit on hastily, but everyone in the room knew it was for his own benefit. Her injuries had been...extensive, to say the least. Internal bleeding, broken bones, damaged organs...the list had made him sick the first time it had been recited off by Shmi’s doctor. He’d paid enough attention in his anatomy classes to know that her chances were slim to none. But maybe, if she just kept smiling like that, she could pull through…

“You were always so handsome,” her soft voice said now, lifting her shaking hand up to rest on his cheek. “And so smart. I’m so...so proud of you.” She stilled for a moment, sucking in a deep breath. 

“You know...I’ll always...be with you, right?” she asked pleadingly, and Anakin forced his head to nod quickly up and down, watching as his own tears dripped down her arm. 

“I know, Mom,” he promised, and it was worth it to see her face relax, soothed with his answer. 

“Good,” she murmured, letting her eyes close and her head fall back. “I love…. I...love....” 

The heart monitor stopped beeping, leaving behind one monotonous hum that was drowned out by his scream. 

__________________

Obi-Wan stared at his phone’s screen, sitting in his usual cafe with a cup of tea that was quickly on its way to growing cold. On it, ten digits that had been haunting him for a week were displayed, right above the green call button his thumb had been hovering over for the past several minutes. 

 

With a sigh, he set the device down, dejectedly taking a sip of his drink before sitting back in his chair, crossing one leg over the other. Was he really ready for this? The list of pro’s and con’s rested before him, taunting him as he struggled to come to a decision. He’d woken up that morning, yet again sweating and panting from the dream he’d been having about his student, and he’d made the resolution to call Anakin. To let him know, once and for all, whether or not they would try to be together. The problem was, though, that every time he made to dial the boy’s number, he was reminded of just how stupid it was to try and sneak around with one of his students. But then, when he set his phone down, he was reminded of everything about the boy that he craved, that he wanted to be his. 

Sighing, he looked out the window. It was raining again, but he didn’t mind. In fact, he quite enjoyed the weather. It was perfect for lounging in his favorite cafe, sipping his favorite tea blend. Deciding to take a break from his conflicted feelings for Skywalker, he let his eyes close as he took several deep breaths, so relaxed that he didn’t hear the bell above the door ring, that he didn’t notice someone was walking towards him until he heard his name being said. 

“Mr. Kenobi?” 

His head snapped up to see none other than Padme Amidala standing in front of him, looking far different than the last time he’d seen her. Today, instead of wearing a tidy, fashionable outfit, she was dressed in leggings and a hoodie that he immediately recognized as one of Anakin’s. Her eyes were red and puffy, and it was quite evident that she’d been crying recently. 

“Miss Amidala,” he greeted, remembering his manners and clearing his throat. “Would you like to sit down?” 

“Yes, thank you,” she murmured, dropping down into the seat across from him. “I’m actually really glad I ran into today.” 

“Is everything alright?” he asked, concern dripping into his tone. He already knew the answer, and it was confirmed when the young girl’s eyes filled with tears and she bowed her head, taking a napkin from the table’s dispenser and dabbing at her eyes until she could calm her breathing. 

“I-It’s Anakin,” she finally choked out, and his spine immediately straightened up, eyes unconsciously falling down to his list. Trying to be subtle, he folded it in half and tucked it into his jacket as he spoke. 

“Is everything alright? Is he hurt?” 

“His…” Padme’s voice was barely a whisper as she held herself, looking down at the table top as she continued. “His mom died early this morning.” 

Kenobi’s jaw dropped, and his heart immediately ached for both Anakin and Padme. 

“Was… Was it sudden?” he found himself asking, receiving a nod in response. 

“A hit and run.” 

“My god…” 

Obi-Wan rubbed a hand down his beard, watching as the girl shed some more tears before hesitantly getting up and scooting his chair closer. He’d never been good with this sort of thing, but he didn’t know what else to do in this situation. Awkwardly, he rested an arm against his shoulder, soon afterwards finding her clutching around his waist in a death grip, her tears sinking into the shoulder of his sweater. He didn’t mind, though, and simply held her, idly petting her curls as she sought out comfort in him. Eventually, she gathered herself, blushing and looking incredibly sheepish. 

“I’m sorry,” she sighed, rubbing her forehead. “Shmi was just...a very good woman. And I have no idea how Anakin’s taking it; he won’t return my calls.”

“Is he staying with family?” 

“With his stepdad, yeah. Cleigg called earlier today to tell me. Anakin...well, apparently he went running out of the hospital. They haven’t heard from him since, either.” 

Worry shot through Obi-Wan’s system as he took in that bit of news, and he looked down at his phone as it rested on the table. Should he try calling him, as well? ‘No,’ he told himself. ‘You wouldn’t help the situation right now. Just leave it.’ 

“I truly hope he turns up soon,” he said, pushing some of his bangs out of his eyes. “I...I’m worried for him, as well.” 

At that, he looked up to find intelligent brown eyes pinning his, seeming to analyze his very heart as she considered him. 

“You care about him, don’t you,” she stated, for it was a statement, not a question. He nodded, knowing it was no use to try and fool someone as perceptive as she obviously was. 

“I do. A great deal more than I should,” he admitted. Seemingly pleased with this, she straightened up in her chair, heaving a long sigh. 

“Good. He cares about you too,” she replied. “I can take any work he’s going to miss while he’s in Arizona for the funeral, but...if you wanted to call him yourself, I think it could help. I can give you his number-”

“I already have it,” he interrupted when she reached for her phone. For the first time that day, she smiled a bit, settling back down.

“Of course you do. I’m not surprised he’s gone against his better judgement. But, then again, when has a heart ever listened to logic?” 

Her name was called from one of the baristas, and so she stood up, shoving her hands into the hoodie’s pockets. 

“Thank you, Mr. Kenobi,” she said, nodding down at him. “I’ll try and keep you posted on how he’s holding up.” 

“Please do, Miss Amidala. And…” He hesitated, trying to think of the right words to say. “I’ve never lost either of my parents, but...if I was grieving the way I’m sure Anakin is, then I’d want to have a friend like you to rely on.” 

A soft smile full of gratitude was sent his way before she spun around and picked up her to-go mug, pulling her hood up as she exited the cafe and took off into the rain, leaving Obi-Wan to stare at his phone once more, this time with that knowledge that, yes, he would be calling Anakin. 

As soon as he found the right words to say. 

_________________

Anakin wished he still felt numb. Or anything other than the blinding sorrow and anger that pulsed through his body with every beat of his broken heart. He stumbled through the city, walking on tired feet as the sun started to go down. His phone buzzed yet again, but he ignored it. Truly, it was a miracle that it hadn’t died yet, but then again, he hadn’t bothered answering any of the calls or texts he’d gotten that day. 

After he’d watched his mom die, after he’d been forced out of the room when he’d been unable to stop screaming, he’d started running. Running and running without a destination, through the streets of Tatooine, not noticing the sweat as it poured out of his skin, making his clothes cling to his body. Not noticing the way his head swam from lack of food or water until just now, when he was forced to stop walking, leaning heavily against the wall of an old abandoned barber shop. The running had stopped after about an hour, but he’d kept shambling on, until he found himself here as twilight settled over the desert town. 

Letting gravity take his weight, he sank down until his ass was resting on something that might have one day been a paper bag from McDonald’s, leaning his back against the grimy wall behind him. Looking up at the sky, he wondered if there was anything, anyone up there, and if there was, why they’d had to take his fucking mother away from him. His Mom, who’d worked her whole life to give him one worth living. His Mom, who’d made sure to tell him she loved him every single day, whether it was as she was kissing him goodnight as a child or through a text as he went about his days at school. 

Why hadn’t he been there? Why hadn’t he just listened to Cleigg and stayed in Tatooine, being nothing more than a struggling mechanic but being close to his mother. Why had he left her? Maybe things would have been different if he stayed; maybe she would still be alive instead of cold in her hospital bed. 

Once again, his phone buzzed, and he finally fished it out of his pocket, unlocking it to see his notifications. 28 missed called, 14 voicemails, 25 text messages. Scrolling through them all, most were from Padme, a few being from Cleigg and Owen, and then one from a number he’d never seen before. Judging by its timestamp, it looked like he’d only just missed whoever it was that had called him. 

Opening up his voicemail, he started going through his messages, wincing when he heard his best friend’s voice pleading with him to call her back. With a heavy sigh, he deleted them all, knowing it would just make him feel worse to hear the hurt he’d caused her. Then there were the messages from his stepfather, begging him to come home in his rough, gravelly voice, filled with a deep sorrow that he couldn’t handle. He’d only known Shmi for a few short years; how dare he be so sad when Anakin was the one who’d lost the only constant he’d ever had in his life? 

Finally, he opened the last voicemail, body freezing up when he heard a familiar smooth voice say his name. 

“Anakin,” Obi-Wan’s voice sighed, and the boy unconsciously sat up straighter, surprise momentarily outweighing his grief. “I ran into Padme and she...she told me what happened. I cannot begin to tell you how sorry I am, both for your loss and the pain I know you’re going through. I...I can’t pretend to know the extent of your suffering, but I do know that there are people who love you, Anakin. People who care. Padme does, your family and friends, and… And I care about you, Anakin. Please, if I might ask you to do something for me now, please go home. Let your loved ones grieve with you, and don’t fight what you’re feeling. And...come back safely, alright? Until then, I’ll miss you.” 

With that, the message ended, and Anakin scrambled to save it, listening to it once more as fresh tears found their way to his eyes. He cared….and he was right. As much as it pained him to admit it. Pulling his knees up to his chest, he burrowed into their denim, sobbing as wave after wave of emotion washed over him, almost drowning him. He hadn’t cried like this ever before in his life, and for a long time the only sounds echoing in his ears were those of his own weeping. That is, until he heard the voice. 

“What do we have here?” 

Head shooting up, he saw two figures making their way towards him, one tall and built like a tree, one smaller and leaner but with a voice that sounded like glass breaking and gravel crunching underfoot, deep and menacing and holding no promise of good things to come. Tattoos covered their exposed arms, necks, and cheeks, the smaller one baring swirls of red and black, the taller one sporting a matching pattern of yellow and black. Anakin might have found the designs pretty, if they didn’t belong to the two imposing men that kept walking closer and closer to his balled-up form. 

Finally able to move after his initial surprise, he stood up, stumbling back a few steps as he looked around for someone who might help him. There was no one in sight, though, and he held his hands behind his back, trying to pull up his emergency dialer without looking. 

“Whatcha got behind your back, pretty boy?” the taller one asked, smirking. 

“N-nothing,” he answered. “Look, I don’t want any trouble-” 

“Oh, neither do we,” the smaller one shrugged, almost nonchalant as he advanced on Anakin. “We’re just out looking for a late night snack, and what do you know? We’ve stumbled upon something...delicious.” Shivers ran up the boy’s spine at the way the man growled that last word. He started shaking all over again, suddenly deeply regretting how weak his body was from not eating. 

Finally, though, he had the emergency dialer up, and he clumsily turned on his heel and started running, tapping 9-1-1 into the dialpad as he heard his pursuers gaining ground on him. 

“911, where is your-”

“Corner of Baker and East Cactus Street, please, they’re chasing-” 

He was cut off from his sentence when someone tackled him from behind, sending his phone skidding out of his reach, coming to a stop several feet away. He was flipped onto his back to see the red one straddling him, trying to pin Anakin’s arms above his head as his brother flicked open a pocket knife, grinning slimily down as he struggled. 

“Stop struggling!” his captor bellowed, so loud and forceful that Anakin’s body went still. “Good boy. Now. You’re going to get in our van and be good for us, or we’re going to start carving away at that pretty face of yours, hm?” 

Breaths leaving his mouth in quick, panicked pants, Anakin gulped and nodded, remaining still as the man grinned down at him, revealing teeth that probably hadn’t been brushed in years. 

“Good. Now-” 

Striking when his guard was down, Anakin pushed up against him with all his might, freeing his hands and landing a solid punch to the man’s jaw, smirking in satisfaction when he felt bone shift and crunch beneath his fist. Anakin wasn’t huge by any means, but he worked out around 4 times a week, and he’d always had a fast metabolism, leaving him with lean muscles that, even in his weakened state, made him a solid contender in a fight. For a moment, he found himself wishing he had Obi-Wan to fight beside, thinking back to the way he’d taken out that man from the bar in just a single punch, but he shook all thoughts of his teacher away, stumbling backwards as the bigger man swiped at him with his knife. 

Mentally begging the cops to show up already, he continued to dodge the knife as its blade threatened to pierce his skin, landing a few punches to the smaller man as he came at him once more. He was no match in a fight against two of them, though, and a searing pain was felt in his right forearm as a deep cut was made to it. Lashing out with his left hand, he tried to grab the knife out of his attacker’s hand, but he wasn’t strong enough, now suffering from the effects of rapid blood loss on top of everything else. The knife was jostled upwards, making Anakin shout in pain as it connected with his face, sending blood trickling into his left eye. 

Stumbling backwards, he once against tried to run, only to trip over his own feet as he tried to flee. ‘This is it,’ he thought, hearing the two men advance towards him. ‘This is how I die. At least Mom will be waiting for me…’ 

But then, with a flash of blue and red, the first siren was heard careening down the street.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It'll get better I promise! More obikin interaction in the next chapter, and Anakin will soon be on his way to healing in both mind and body! Don't you worry for our poor boy.


	10. Chapter 10

Two weeks passed, and the funeral came and went. Throughout it all, Anakin stood resolute, as impassive as he could appear while breaking on the inside. The first day had been the worst, true; since then, he hadn’t taken off running through Tatooine, destination unknown. But his heart was still shattered, seeming to throb every time he was reminded of his mother. 

Which is to say, all the time. 

The first few days, he’d been in the very hospital where Shmi had taken her last breaths, the wound on his arm requiring upwards of 20 stitches. At least, 20 is where he’d lost count. The wound over his eye would no doubt scar, the doctor told him, and even now his smile twisted into a smirk from his morbid amusement. So the scar on his heart wasn’t enough of a reminder of the worst day of his life; no, he had to carry one around on his face. Every time he looked at himself, he’d have to think back to the two men, who he later found out to be in a gang, their aliases being Maul and Savage. He’d have think back to his mother’s eyes the moment the light drained out of him. Of sitting in that alleyway, listening to Obi-Wan’s voicemail, tears tracking down his cheeks. 

Now, as he sat on the plane back to Coruscant, the drew his hoodie tighter around himself, leaning against the window as the runway started to become a blur, and then nothing at all as they lifted up above it, soaring into the stratosphere. Sand stretched on for miles after the tiny town of Tatooine became nothing less than a speck in the desert, and Anakin’s lip curled. He hated sand. He hated Tatooine, now more than ever. And he hated himself for not having been there sooner. He could have stopped it. Maybe his mother wouldn’t have been walking down that street had he still been there. Maybe he would’ve found her sooner and gotten her to the hospital on time to stop her internal bleeding. Maybe maybe maybe… 

“Sir? Can I offer you a snack or anything to drink?” 

Turning his head around, he looked up into the smiling face of the stewardess and scowled. How dare she be happy when his mother was dead? How could anyone be smiling that wide when Shmi Skywalker was no longer on this Earth. 

As Anakin stared at her, the pretty young woman shifted on her feet, tugging at one of the wild curls that had made its way out of her bun. 

“Would that be a no then?” 

“No,” he affirmed, turning back to the window with a huff. He heard the wheels of her trolley squeak as she moved on to the row behind him, then heard the muffled voice of the old man sitting in front of him. 

“Jeez, what’s that kid’s problem?” he whispered to his wife, apparently thinking that his voice was quiet enough not to be heard two feet away. Anakin’s blood boiled, and he couldn’t stop himself from growling from behind clenched teeth. 

“My problem is that my mother is dead,” he bit out, earning a look of shock from the elderly couple as their heads whipped around to look at him. “My problem is that I was jumped in an alleyway two weeks ago and I’m always going to have this fucking scar to remember it by. And my fucking problem is that people like you fucking assume too much about-”

“Sir, could you please calm down?” the stewardess’s voice asked. Turning his head, he saw that she’d walked back to him, her dark eyes holding a look of assertiveness but also supreme sympathy and pity. He let out another huff; he didn’t want or need her pity. 

Instead of replying, he just turned back to the window, watching the clouds swirl against the blue backdrop of the sky. A hand was placed gently on his arm, and then she was standing too close to him, speaking in what she probably thought was a gentle tone. 

“I’m sorry about your mother,” the stewardess said, and he just shrugged, shoving his hands into his pockets to retrieve his headphones. 

“So am I,” he responded gruffly. Taking out his phone and making sure it was on airplane mode, he turned his music up as loud as it would go, closing his eyes and imagining the guitar riffs and drum solos were flowing through his brain, flushing his anger and sadness away so he could finally sleep on the way back to the east coast. It didn’t work, of course, but he couldn’t hear the older couple as they started talking about “healthy coping mechanisms” and “lashing out in grief”. 

No one understood. And, in that moment, he truly believed no one would. 

____________

Obi-Wan always seemed to be at a loss when it came to dealing with Anakin. The boy threw him for a loop, knocking his usual rock-solid composure to the ground as effectively as a wrecking ball. But now, more than ever, he didn’t know what to do about the boy. 

For the past two weeks, he’d been emailing Anakin his assignments; every time, they would be turned in days before the due date he’d set for them, but he was 99% sure that it was Padme who was completing them. He didn’t know how she’d gotten Anakin’s email account information, but in any case, he was now receiving perfectly crafted, professional essays and test assignments, grammar and spelling always, without fail, correct - a sure sign that it as not Anakin’s words. In the back of his mind, the professor wondered if the girl was doing this for all of Anakin’s classes, and if so, how she managed to keep herself from going insane under the weight of carrying not only her own load of school work, but also her job and her friend’s set of classes in Engineering, of all fields. That was about as different from political science as you could get. 

In any case, with every perfectly crafted assignment, Kenobi got more and more worried about his favorite student, his seat remaining empty day after day, burned like a hole into his mind. How quickly that boy had wormed himself into Obi-Wan’s mind; he found himself missing that unruly head of curls and mischievous blue eyes until, finally, he found himself at Qui-Gon’s door, having felt more alone than ever before in Anakin’s absence. 

“Obi-Wan! Now this is a surprise,” his old teacher greeted, opening his door further. Obi-Wan stepped into the large apartment, muttering a quick hello as he passed by the older man.   
Qui-Gon had obviously been grading papers just a few moments ago; he was sporting a comfortable pair of gray sweatpants and a plain white t-shirt, his trademark cardigan wrapped around his frame loosely in beige folds. Dragging his feet, which were clad in two colorful, mismatched socks, the gray-headed man walked over to his old sofa and started moving papers off of it, apologizing under his breath for the mess before heading to the kitchen to take a screaming kettle off the stove. 

Qui-Gon’s apartment was really more of a greenhouse. Wide windows took up a whole wall of the living room, and the exposed beams in the ceiling served as a hanging rail for several plants, the vines of which hung so low that they brushed against the tall man’s head any time he wanted to look out at the city. Bookshelves lined another wall, sporting his foster daughter’s collection of Harry Potter and A Series of Unfortunate Events, which Obi-Wan knew to be her favorites, having been the one that bought them for her. Along with the books, several cacti rested in small pots that had been painted by the girl when she was still a small child; now, years later, she was entering into college in just one more semester, finishing high school up early and already accepted into Coruscant University. 

Dropping onto the couch with a soft ‘oof’, Obi-Wan reached for the cup of green tea that Qui-Gon offered him, taking a sip before setting it to the side and speaking. 

“Is Ahsoka home? I feel like it’s been ages since I’ve seen her,” he started, weight shifting to the right as his friend joined him on the sofa. 

“Oh, no,” he chuckled in response. “She’s in school. She’ll have more free time once she starts uni.” A fond but sad smile graced his lips, and his wise blue eyes flashed to Obi-Wan’s. 

“Tahl would have been so proud of her,” he murmured softly, sipping his cup of tea as he thought of his wife. “Next month will make six years she’s been gone.” 

“Qui… I’m so sorry,” the young man murmured, setting a warm hand on his shoulder. This was met with another smile, warmer, and a large, calloused hand came up to squeeze his.   
“It’s quite alright, my friend,” he was assured. “I’ve come to see the anniversary of her death as an opportunity to think back and relive the good times, pull out the memories she’s given me and sort through them like my favorite book of photographs. Ahsoka and I are taking a trip to her grave, and then we’re going on a short trip to Ohio.” 

“Why Ohio?” 

“I told her we could go anywhere she wanted, and she said that she wanted to ride roller coasters over and over until she throws up,” he answered, chuckling fondly along with Obi-Wan. “So I figured Cedar Point would be as good a place as any to do that. Plus, Tahl’s family live there, and I figured I could stop in to see them.” 

“That sounds like it’ll be lovely, Qui.” 

“Oh, it will be. But enough about that,” the older man prompted, sending Kenobi a wry smile. “I’m willing to bet you didn’t come here just to catch up. What’s going on that has you looking like a child who just lost a balloon?” 

“I don’t look that pathetic.” 

“I beg to differ.” 

Sighing, he raised his mug once more to his lips, taking a slow sip before speaking tentatively. 

“Anakin is worrying me,” he answered, and he saw the humor in his friend’s eyes die. 

“Oh, yes,” he nodded, looking towards the window at the city that lay on its other side. “He’s still not back. But, from what I understand, he loved his mother very much.” 

“I know her death must have shaken him. Padme...she told me that he had to be hospitalized after she passed.” 

Concern washed over Qui-Gon’s features, and he leaned forward, setting his cup down. 

“I haven’t heard about this.” 

“Well, apparently he went running through the town after she died, and he got jumped in an alleyway by two thugs. He’ll be ok,” he added quickly. “But I imagine it’s only managed to make his life even more miserable. I don’t...I don’t know what I’ll do when he gets back. I want to help him, but… I barely know him. I don’t want him to feel like I’m imposing myself on him.” 

A long moment of silence passed, and Obi-Wan knew that his friend was turning his words over in his head, nodding slowly as he thought over the situation. 

“I was right,” he finally said, though no trace of smugness laced his voice. “You do like him. But much more than I suspected. You’ve developed quite the case of feelings for him, haven’t you?” 

Rubbing his forehead in an attempt to dispel the headache that was starting to form there, he nodded, suddenly feeling too overcome by it all to answer with words. 

“Well, Obi-Wan, if I know you, then I know that these feelings didn’t just come from nowhere. You never would have allowed yourself to become so infatuated with someone, much less a student, if there wasn’t some level of interest coming from the other person,” Qui-Gon explains. “Which leads me to assume that Anakin has feelings for you, too. Besides, I’ve heard him talk about you. He looks up to you greatly.

“You know, when my wife died, I didn’t want to talk to anyone. I locked myself in my room for three days, laying in our bed, feeling numb to the world outside. And then, after thinking about the love I’d lost in the form of Tahl, I started craving the love I found in others. In Ahsoka, in my family, in my friends. Do you remember how I showed up at your doorstep a week later, just to tell you that you meant a lot to me?” 

“Yes,” Obi-Wan answered, a small smile tugging on his lips at the memory. “It was back when I thought you hated me, when I was just finishing up as your TA.” 

“Your face held such a look of utter confusion that we both started laughing,” Qui-Gon chuckled. “And then you invited me in, and I ended up talking with you all night. Not just about Tahl, but about our likes and dislikes, learning about you until I left the next morning knowing I’d have a friend for life. 

“I tell you this because Anakin… Well, he reminds me of myself, back when I was young. And I think, truly, that he’ll need the support and care of everyone who cares for him. Love in every form he can get it. Even if that love is just the puppy-love of an English teacher. Even if it’s not puppy-love at all, but the start of something that will change your lives forever. Either way, he’ll need you. Offering your help in his time of need will be the farthest thing from imposing, Obi-Wan. What have I always told you?” 

“Focus on the moment,” he replied, almost automatically. 

“Exactly-precisely. You think far too much; it’s going to make your head blow up one day,” he smiled, bumping his shoulder against the younger man’s. “Just go to the boy and say you’re sorry, that you want to help him in any way you can, that you’re here for him. Then the ball is in his court.” 

At that, Obi-Wan had to chuckle, thinking back to those words back when Anakin had spoken them after giving him his number. Qui-Gon had a point, and he turned to his mentor with a soft smile, drawing him into a quick hug despite the fact that he’d always been awkward about physical contact outside of the bedroom. Squeezing the taller man softly, he sat back and nodded his head, retrieving his mug and finishing off his tea. 

“Thank you, Qui-Gon,” he murmured earnestly. “You’re the truest friend I’ve ever known. And...And I’m here for you, if you ever need to talk about Tahl or anything else. You know that, right?” 

“That’s the thing, isn’t it,” the older man replied, standing from the sofa at the same time that Obi-Wan did. “I do know it, because I, too, couldn’t ask for a friend more true than you, Obi-Wan. Good luck with Anakin. Just promise me something?” 

“Anything.” 

“Don’t get caught.” 

______________

Anakin didn’t go to his dorm when he first got back to Coruscant. Nor did he go to Padme’s apartment like he’d promised to. He could still hear her voice ringing in the airport as she’d pushed money into his hands for the flight. ‘You can pay me back by telling Shmi I love her.’ He hadn’t even managed to do that. 

Trudging through the streets with his worn backpack slung over his shoulder, he within the hour he found himself looking up at the neon sign of The 21st Amendment. He had to let out a huff of laugh; here he was, in a place he’d thought of ever since stealing a kiss from his English professor in the alleyway. It made sense that he’d ended up somewhere that served as a physical reminder of what a failure he was. With the scar bisecting his eye and the memories of a drunken kiss burdening his brain, he pushed in through the doors, making a beeline for the bar along the back wall, bumping his way through the crush of dancing bodies he had to cross to get there. 

Letting his body flop down into a chair, he leaned his forehead against his fist, staring at the bandage he still wore over his arm wound. He didn’t technically still need to wear it; it was well on its way to healing into an ugly, wrinkled scar that curved from his outer wrist to his inner forearm, stopping right before the crease of his elbow. But he didn’t want to have to look at it, and he didn’t feel like putting on a jacket to fend off the cold of Coruscant at night. Let it be a reminder that he’d left the desert of Tatooine far behind him. 

“Shit, you look like you need a drink.” 

Looking up, Anakin saw the bartender leaning on the counter in front of him, her dark eyes regarding him keenly as she studied his face closely. 

“Well, you’re not wrong,” he replied, and she grinned, something wide and wolfish and full of teeth. 

“What can I get for you, then?” 

It took every bit of his self control not to look shocked and ask why she hadn’t asked to see his ID first. But he only let the right corner of his lip twitch upwards, something that could be taken as a friendly attempt at a smile instead of a sign of surprise. 

“Uh… I’ll have a scotch. Make it a double,” he added, trying to sound and act nonchalant as he slid her his card. “You can keep my tab open.” 

Taking the Visa from him, she swiped it along the card reader before setting to making his drink, setting it down in front of him with a wink. 

“Lemme know if I can do anything else to help,” she added flirtatiously, and Anakin stifled a laugh as he nodded his head, throwing back the dark liquid and almost gagging as it burned a trail right down his esophagus. 

“You can start by getting me another one of those. And a long island,” he added, setting the small glass down with a clink. Arching her eyebrows in an expression that showed she was impressed, she set to work, bringing him the scotch first before starting on the mixed drink. 

He was half-way through the tea (which didn’t even have tea in it at all, he discovered as he watched her make it - just several kinds of liquor and Coke to make it look like iced tea) when he felt someone sit beside him, their shoulder brushing his as he leaned against the counter. For once, he didn’t need someone else to buy him a drink, and he was about to growl at them to get lost, but then he heard the voice that he hadn’t even realized he’d been missing desperately for the last two weeks. 

“I do believe that you made me a promise not to do this sort of thing before turning 21,” Obi-Wan Kenobi drawled, watching him with an arched eyebrow and a put-out expression. Blinking slowly, Anakin regarded him, already starting to feel his head spin and buzz under the alcohol’s influence. He couldn’t quite tell if his teacher was really there sitting next to him or if he’d just dreamed him up, but either way a big, dopey smile came to his lips as he leaned forward to rest his forehead on his shoulder. 

“God, I missed you so much,” he groaned, the sorrow he’d been feeling earlier gone with the thrill of seeing the object of his affections. “You’re just as sexy as I remembered you. And you’re so warm. And British…” 

Clearing his throat, Obi-Wan took hold of his student’s shoulders and forced him to sit up straight, causing a pout to form over his pink lips, which were still tingling from the scotch. He wondered if they’d tingle if Kenobi kissed him right now. 

“Anakin, I’m serious. You can’t just do this every time you-” 

“This is different,” he mumbled, suddenly remembering what had brought him here to begin with. “My mom died, Obi-Wan.” A single tear started sliding down his cheek, and he looked back up at his teacher, suddenly feeling the full weight of loss once again. “She died....” 

“Oh, Anakin.” With a sigh, the other man stood and guided Anakin to his wobbling feet, throwing an arm around his waist to support him. “I know. I know, darling, and I’m so, so sorry. But she wouldn’t want you to cope with it by getting piss-drunk in a bar.” 

“Don’t tell me what she’d want…” he tried to grumble, but he quickly forgot his words, emotions starting to lift once more as he leaned into Kenobi’s embrace. “You smell so fuckin’ good…” 

“Oookay,” the professor sighed, starting to walk the two of them to the door. “Time to get you back to your dorm-”

“NO,” Anakin suddenly yelled, trying to wrench himself free but only managing to send both of them stumbling back against the bar, Obi-Wan’s feet trying and failing to keep them in place. Leaning his weight back against its surface, the young man cupped his teacher’s bearded cheeks, looking down at him seriously. 

“I can’t go there,” he whispered urgently. “Rex will be there. And he’ll want to talk about it but I don’t want to. I don’t WANT to-”

“Padme’s then,” Obi-Wan tried, but an honest to God whimper came out of his student’s parted lips, and he looked down, mumbling his next words even quieter. 

“I couldn’t pay her back,” he thought he heard the boy say, but he couldn’t be positive that that was what he’d truly said. Either way, he looked broken-hearted at the thought of seeing his best friend again, and Obi-Wan rubbing his beard with his free hand, thinking over his options. 

A half hour ago, he’d received an email from Padme saying Anakin had supposed to be at her apartment, that he’d promised to be there, but two hours after his plane had landed he was still MIA. She’d apparently called Rex and all of Anakin’s other friends, but no one had seen him, and so she’d asked Obi-Wan if he’d known of any places the boy might have gone. The 21st Amendment had been a long shot, but he figured that, if Anakin had gone there before seeking comfort for simply a bad day, that it was plausible that he’d gone there in the hopes of finding a way to cope with his mother’s death via the contents of a liquor bottle. 

And he’d been right.

Looking at the younger man now, he was suddenly struck by a wave of grief, taking a moment to truly see him for the first time in weeks. The first thing he noticed was the scar, marring the perfect, youthful face he’d fantasized about so many times. If he was being honest with himself, it was strangely attractive in a way that he should be ashamed of; how could he have found something that had caused Anakin pain attractive? 

Next, he took note of the large bandage on his right arm, and then the heavy bags and paler-than-usual skin of his face. He looked... Well. He looked like shit. Beautiful shit that Obi-Wan cared for deeply, but shit nonetheless. And he had nowhere to go. 

“Alright, then,” he finally said with a sigh, shouldering the backpack that the boy had left hanging from his seat. “We’ll go to my apartment, then. And you,” he suddenly called out, stabbing a finger in the bartender’s direction. “Did you even bother to check his ID?” 

Upon hearing those words, she froze, color draining from her face as she mentally watched her career go up in smoke for serving a minor alcohol. 

“H-he looks like he’s-”

“I don’t care,” he growled. “You’re lucky I’m not going to tell anyone. But let this serve as a reminder to you not to do something so foolish next time.” 

With that, he turned to Anakin, nudging him gently until he was leaving with Obi-Wan, arm slung across his shoulders and weight resting on him heavily as he piled into the cab he’d arrived there in. Giving the driver his address, he buckled his student into his seat before sorting his own seatbelt, not giving a single word of protest when he felt Anakin lean his head against his shoulder. 

“We’re going to your house now, Obi?” 

“Yes, Ani, we’re going to my home. Everything is going to be ok; I’m here for you.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thoughts??? Was this a good reunion scene??? Will Anakin ever learn??? Leave me a comment to let me know!!!


	11. Chapter 11

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey, guys! Sorry for my absence; life has gotten crazy here recently. I hope you like this chapter! Let me know what you think in the comments.

It was quite the battle trudging up the stairs leading to Obi-Wan’s apartment; after long days of teaching, he could barely drag himself up the three flights. But now, with a long day and young man perched atop his shoulders, it was enough to have him winded and breathless by the time he reached his door. 

Anakin, all the while, had been leaning the majority of his weight on the arm slung over his teacher, cooing nonsense into the older man’s ear, making the task even more uncomfortable as Kenobi tried to ignore the way his warm breath washed over the side of his face. 

“Your voicemail was so good,” he was saying now, as Obi-Wan fumbled to unlock his door. “I listened to it right before they came and did this.” An uncoordinated hand flew up to indicate the scar on his face, accidently knocking the key away from the lock just as Obi-Wan was trying to insert it. 

“Anakin, I care for you dearly, but could you try to keep still for me?” he asked exasperatedly, once again fitting the key into the door, this time turning it successfully and pushing it open to reveal the tidy apartment within. 

“I’m at your house!” Anakin whisper-yelled, stumbling forward without Obi-Wan to guide him. Giggling faintly, he turned in a circle, taking in the white walls and beige carpet. Here and there, paintings were put up around the space, but for the most part it was sparse. The dining room held a circular wooden table that was obviously not used often. The living room held a set of dark leather couches, all arranged around a fireplace with a television mounted above it. The kitchen was sectioned off to the right, and from what Anakin could tell, it held modern, stainless steel appliances. From there, a hallway rested directly in front of him, holding three doors within it. Taking a step forward to explore, the drunk man soon found himself inexplicably sprawled out on the floor, his breath rushing out of his lungs in a soft ‘oof’. 

“Oh, for the love of-” Obi-Wan sighed, scurrying forward as his student fell face-first onto the carpet. 

“Obi-Wan, your floor is comfy,” Anakin observed in a voice muffled by aforementioned floor. “And so clean; everything is so clean-”

“Yes, yes, I know,” the professor sighed, heaving the other man to his feet in a series of murmured curses and grunts. Walking down the hall, Obi-Wan opened a door to his left to reveal a large bedroom, complete with a king sized bed Anakin seemed drawn to, if his drunken lurch towards it indicated anything. 

“Oh, god, yes,” he laughed, falling, once again, onto his face, only this time it was onto a soft mattress. “It smells like you!”

“Well, I do happen to sleep there,” Kenobi sassed, starting to work Anakin’s shoes off his feet. “Most nights, at least. It appears a pesky pupil of mine will be taking my place.”

“I don’t know what those words mean,” the younger man grumbled, grabbing a pillow and hugging it against his chest. Despite the situation, Obi-Wan had to laugh quietly to himself, finally getting the old converse off of Anakin and onto the floor, tossed away as he started working the sheets over and around the inebriated young man. 

“Alright,” he finally sighed, taking a seat on the edge of his mattress and studying his handiwork. There Anakin lay, tucked into his bed like he’d envisioned so many times, handsome face pressed to a pillow, the only thing visible from behind it being his blue eyes as they looked up at his professor playfully. 

“Obi-Wan?” he asked, voice soft. 

“Yes?” 

“Are we going to have sex?” 

If Obi-Wan had been drinking something, it surely would have been spat out upon hearing this question. 

“W-we are not!” he was quick to protest, and Anakin lifted his face from the pillow to pout up at him. 

“But I’m in your bed!” he exclaimed. “Why else would I be-”

“Anakin. You’re incredibly drunk; you’re grieving; you didn’t want to go anywhere else. You’re here to sleep.” 

A contemplative look passed over his features, and he arched an eyebrow as he slurred his next words. 

“Like.... sleep in the sexy way or like-”

“Actually sleeping, Anakin!” Kenobi exclaimed exasperatedly, lifting himself off of the bed and towards his dresser to retrieve some pajamas. Taking the bundle in his hands into the adjoined restroom, he quickly changed into them and came back out to see that, in the moments he’d been gone, his student had shut his eyes and once again curled up against the pillow in his arms. Taking a moment to take him in, Obi-Wan sighed, rubbing a hand over his beard in thought. 

He really did look adorable. 

Biting his lip, he looked around for his phone, finally locating it in the pocket of his discarded jeans, and took a quick photo. Just for himself to have. He’d delete it in the morning, he told himself. He just... wanted to hold onto this moment. Shaking his head and belittling himself under his breath, he tucked the phone into his sweatpants and made to leave, but then Anakin’s sleepy, almost indiscernible voice sounded from behind his back. 

“Stay,” he commanded, not even opening his eyes. Frowning, Obi-Wan opened his mouth to say that it wasn’t a good idea, but the younger man went on, a few tears leaking out from under his lids. 

“I have nightmares now,” he sniffled, and it was then that Kenobi’s last shred of willpower broke. Feeling himself nod, he stiffly walked back to the bed and laid himself down facing Anakin, awkwardly lifting an arm to fit it around his lean waist. It had been a long time since Obi-Wan had slept next to anyone, but apparently his awkward attempt at cuddling was enough for his bed partner. With a soft sigh, Anakin rested his head against the other man’s chest, tossing the pillow behind him so he could wrap both his arms and his legs around the other man’s form, quickly drifting off to sleep, if his soft snoring was any indication. 

“Well,” Obi-Wan whispered to himself. “I’m not going anywhere anytime soon.” 

With a soft sigh, he closed his eyes, holding Anakin tighter and resting his chin on top of the younger man’s head as he, too, fell into a deep, warm sleep. 

_____________

Anakin woke up the next day with, surprisingly, no headache. He didn’t, however, know where he was. The bed he was sprawled out on was too big to be his, and it smelled like a mix of fresh linens and pine, a combination much different from his own scent, which faintly resembled a campfire. And it was too soft. Letting out a content sigh, he just went with it for a few moments, snuggling deeper into the mattress as his brain slowly filled itself with the memories from last night. 

With a jolt, he shot straight up, looking frantically around him. He was in Obi-Wan’s bed. He was in his English teacher and crush’s bed. The man in question was nowhere in sight, but Anakin’s cheeks were already hot in embarrassment as he recalled all that had happened. Firstly, he’d broken his promise and got drunk in a bar, the very same one where he’d forced a kiss onto Kenobi. Then, he’d insisted on going to the man’s house, only to curl up in his bed and ask if they were gonna…

“Oh, no,” he groaned, rubbing a hand down his face. “Oh, god, Anakin, why were you made this way…”

Heaving a deep sigh, he reached into his pocket and pulled out his phone. 8:27 in the morning. Not too bad. At least he’d woken up before noon. Unlocking the device, he winced when he saw how many missed messages and texts he’d received last night. 

“Padme’s gonna kill me,” he muttered, shoving it back into his jeans. Standing from the bed, he walked stiffly over to the door, which was slightly ajar. Poking his head out of it, his ears picked up on the sound of pots and pans clanging against a stovetop coming from the kitchen. Obi-Wan was, obviously, awake, and judging by the scent that filled the air, he was cooking breakfast. Well… Burning breakfast. 

Gathering his courage, he squared his shoulders and prepared his best apology as he walked down the hall in socked feet. Once again poking his head around his corner, he took in the scene that awaited him in the kitchen. 

Obi-Wan was standing in a simple white t-shirt and gray sweatpants, hands on his hips and scowl on his face as he looked into the open oven. His bangs hung down into his eyes, and he brought a hand up to stroke his beard, clearly deep in thought as he regarded what was before him. 

“Um…” Anakin spoke softly, causing the teacher’s eyes to snap up to his, “Is everything ok in here?” 

“Well… I tried to make breakfast,” Obi-Wan answered in his crisp accent. “It didn’t cooperate, though. So the menu has been changed slightly. At least the eggs aren’t burned.” Nodding his head to the side, Anakin followed the gesture to a bowl of hardboiled eggs, next to which rested a plate of what looked like bacon. 

“So instead of cinnamon rolls,” Kenobi went on, “We’re going to have to settle for oatmeal.”

“Oatmeal is fine by me,” Anakin lied. He hated oatmeal, but he wasn’t about to say that to the man who’d let him cuddle with him on his bed. 

“Good. I have maple and brown sugar flavor,” Obi-Wan replied, starting to pour water into the bowls with the instant packages within them. 

After this, the two of them fell into a silence as the oatmeal cooked in the microwave. Anakin simply leaned in the doorway, crossing his arms and searching for something to say, while the other man sipped a cup of coffee slowly. Neither could tell if it was an uncomfortable silence or a contemplative one, but eventually, Anakin could take no more. 

“I’m really sorry,” he blurted out, Obi-Wan’s eyes lazily trailing up to his as he went on. “I know it was stupid, I just… It’s been so fucking hard.” Once more, the sadness started creeping in, and his arms tightened around each other on his chest, as if he were hugging himself. “I… I really just...miss her.” 

His teacher’s gaze softened, and as Anakin’s eyes stayed firmly fixed on the ground, he heard the other man walk closer. A hand was placed on his bicep, and he finally focused on the handsome figure that stood just a few inches shorter than him. 

“Anakin,” the older man said slowly. “I can’t imagine the pain you’re going through. And I’m so, so sorry that you’re feeling it. But… I care about you. Padme, Qui-Gon… We all care so much for you. Please, don’t do something like this again. If you need a way to cope, if it ever gets to be too much, please reach out to one of us. We’ll fight to help you through this, Anakin. You’re not alone.”

Anakin felt as if a boulder had just been laid upon his chest. Ever since his mother had died, he’d felt like he was alone, a sad island within an ocean of people who didn’t understand. And while Obi-Wan had admitted that he didn’t know Anakin’s pain... he still was right. He wasn’t alone. Even if he knew it would always be hard for him to let other people in...they were still there. 

“Yeah,” he finally sighed, his throat constricting as tears welled up behind his eyes. Coughing into his fist and blinking his eyelids quickly, he tried to cover it up, but, as always, Kenobi was perceptive. With a small tut, he pulled Anakin into a tight embrace, one that took the younger man’s breath away. Soon, before he even realized he was doing it, he was bowing his head, nuzzling it into the crook of Obi-Wan’s neck and clutching the material of the man’s white shirt in a death grip. Tears were flowing steadily out of his closed eyes, but he almost didn’t notice them. Close like this, he could feel every single breath the other man took, could feel his heart beating against his own chest. This felt so incredibly right, despite the pain that still throbbed in his chest. 

“I-I’m sorry-” he started to say, pulling back, but he was quickly shushed, and Obi-Wan’s arms didn’t budge from their position around his waist. 

“Don’t ever apologize for hurting,” he commanded, “Or for crying. I hope you know how honored I am to be the one holding you.”

A choked sob left Anakin’s parted lips upon hearing that, and without warning, he pried his face away from Kenobi’s shoulder and claimed his lips once more, tasting his tears and feeling them drip into the other man’s beard, but not caring. He needed this, needed to show Obi-Wan just how much this moment meant to him, needed to be close and feel something other than the hole within himself. And while it was still there, would always be there, the feelings welling up within himself for this man, his teacher and unexpected friend, formed one drop that went towards making that hole a little less huge. 

For his part, Obi-Wan did nothing to refuse the kiss. His palms came up to gently rest against Anakin’s cheeks, holding his face there and letting his lips press into the caress. One of his thumbs traced up to where Anakin’s scar reached his cheekbone, rubbing small circles into the spot as his other hand snaked around to the mess of wild curls resting atop the boy’s head. There was passion here, yes, but one that passed between their souls rather than their bodies. It was a healing moment for Anakin, a moment in which he connected with another person in grief and gratitude, and so he let him lead, moving his head this way or that as the younger man took what he needed, all the while giving Obi-Wan something he’d longed for since the day he met this student of his. 

The two of them were breathless when they pulled away, and for the first time in two weeks (when no alcohol was involved), Anakin’s lips twisted into a small smile. 

“I… Thank you,” he finally whispered, swallowing thickly. A warm smile passed over Obi-Wan’s features, and he nodded, pressing one more peck to Anakin’s lips before whispering back. 

“And thank you, dear one.”


	12. Chapter 12

“Do you have any idea how fucking worried I was for you?! I called everyone I know in Coruscant to look out for you! I searched the campus; I called Sabe up crying; you scared the shit out of me!” 

Standing awkwardly in Padme’s doorway, Anakin took in all of her words, wincing every time she cussed. It wasn’t like her to curse, but then again, she’d never been so upset with him before. 

“I love you, Anakin. You can’t just...just disappear like that-”

“I know,” he whispered, a hand coming up to push his hair back as it threatened to fall into his eyes. “I know. I’m sorry.” 

For a moment, Padme just looked up at him, chest heaving from the shouting she’d just done, but then he was being pulled into her apartment and into her arms. 

“I’m so sorry she’s gone,’ she murmured, her voice cracking under the weight of her sorry. Gulping, he fought down his own tears; he’d done enough crying that day. 

“Me too,” he responded, squeezing her like she was his one and only life line. They both stood there like that for a few minutes, and Anakin, for the second time since waking up, felt the hole within himself starting to heal. 

“I’m sorry, Padme,” he murmured into her shoulder, but she shook her head. 

“It’s ok, Ani. Just...just don’t run off to a bar next time you-”

“No, it’s...it’s something else,” he sighed, pulling away. “You said to tell Mom you love her and to get better. But I couldn’t before she...before…” 

“Oh, god, Ani,” Padme interrupted, cupping his cheeks. “Ani, that doesn’t matter! I would never be upset about… Oh, gosh.” Leaning up on her tiptoes, she pressed a kiss to his forehead. 

“Anakin, all I care about is how you’re doing. Wherever she is, Shmi knows I love her, and she knows the pain you’re feeling. What we need to focus on is coping. Ok? Will you let me help you do that?” 

Swallowing thickly, Anakin nodded, feeling a spark of endearment for his friend. She was always looking forward, proactive and caring.

“Ok,” he answered, stepping away to take a seat on her couch, slumping back against the cushions. She followed him, sitting beside him and resting her head on his shoulder. After a silent minute, she spoke once more. 

“Obi-Wan told me you spent the night at his place,” she said cautiously. “He said he found you in 21st Amendment. Again.” 

“Yeah,” Anakin sighed, “Yeah, that’s...true. He found me and I… I don’t know. I didn’t want to go back to my room, and I didn’t want him to take me here because... Because of stupid reasons. So he let me sleep at his place.” 

Hesitating before speaking, his friend took one of his hands in hers and squeezed it, looking up at him with an earnest expression. 

“Anakin, I know this is a terrible time in your life, and that it will be a long time before you’re back to your regular self. And I know that you have more pressing things on your mind, but… I’m so curious. What happened at Obi-Wan’s place?” 

“.....You’re asking me for details about my night with my crush? Now?” 

“I’m ashamed to say I am.” 

Unable to help it, his mouth split into a wide grin, and he laughed, long and hard as Padme joined in. 

“Wow,” he chuckled after a while, catching his breath. “Glad you have your priorities in order.” 

“Look, I need to know, ok? Me and Qui-Gon have a running bet.” 

“Over what?” 

“How long it’ll take for you guys to be dating.” 

Rolling his eyes, he wrapped an arm around the small woman, leaning his head back against the sofa cushions and closing his eyes. 

“Well, if you must know, he practically carried me up his stairs until we got to his door. And then, when we did get there, I begged him to sleep beside me.” 

“And did he?” 

Letting his head loll to the side, he smirked at her. 

“How could he say no?” He laughed when he saw her roll her eyes at him, and then his expression grew more serious as he recounted what happened next. 

“He slept next to me, and then in the morning he made a terribly bland breakfast and let me cry on his shoulder. And then, after we ate, he said I should go see you. I said that it was probably a good idea, and then we kissed and went our separate ways.” 

“Wait wait wait. You guys KISSED?” 

“Yes, Padme. We kissed,” he sighed. “The first time, it was because I was emotional and just...needed to have that contact, I guess. But then, when I was walking out the door, I turned and just… I don’t know. I like him so much, Padme. It felt natural to kiss him before I said goodbye. And he kissed me back.” 

“Well,” she considered, “It sounds like he’s helped you. I mean, the fact that he survived a night with Drunk Anakin and still wanted to kiss you says a lot.” 

“I know. He’s… he’s honestly perfect, Padme. He left me this voicemail the day Mom... died, and… I think I need him.” 

“Anakin… I don’t know enough about him to say for sure, but I think what you need most right now is just to relax and grieve properly. I’m sure he’ll be here for you, and you know I’m always here to help in any way I can. Speaking of which… Again, I don’t mean to change the subject too abruptly, but I’ve been doing all of your homework to the best of my ability, and I think you should use the rest of today to catch up. I made you some flashcards to help.” 

Grinning softly once more, Anakin pressed a kiss to her cheek, feeling so much love for his friend in that moment. 

“What would I do without you?” 

“Crash and burn, probably.” 

_________

The next few days were dedicated to studying with Padme and, during the evenings, Sabe. After their help with quizzing him, he felt a bit better about walking into class the next Wednesday. Just in case, though, he was coming in twenty minutes early, just to do a recap with Obi-Wan about what he’d missed during his absence. At least, that was what he told himself, even though he knew he really just missed he man. Asides from the occasional text to check up on how he was doing, Anakin hadn’t had any contact with his crush, and he was eager to see his handsome face, even if it meant waking up a littler earlier than usual to do so. 

What he wasn’t prepared for, though, was walking into Mr. Kenobi’s classroom only to see the man talking to Mr. Jinn and a teenaged girl who was currently sitting on his desk. She looked young, even younger than Anakin, and her hair was long and dyed a bleach blonde with sky blue streaks in it. Most of her skin was a dark brown, but it seemed like she had vitiligo, causing patches of her skin to be a lighter, creamy color. She was really cute, Anakin thought. And the way she dressed, in bright, mismatched colors and patterns, endeared him to the way she looked even more. 

Clearing his throat as he paused in the doorway, he watched three pairs of blue eyes snap up to his, and he gave an awkward smile and wave. 

“Uh… Am I interrupting anything?” he asked. Smiling fondly, Obi-Wan shook his head, gesturing for him to come further into the room. 

“Not at all, Anakin. I was just catching up,” he explained, nodding to Mr. Jinn and the girl. Setting his bookbag in the seat he usually sat in during class, Anakin walked closer to the group. 

“It’s lovely to see you again, Anakin,” Qui-Gon said, pulling the younger man into a hug. Blushing and squirming a bit from the unexpected contact, Anakin hugged him back, having to admit that it was nice to be held by someone taller than him. 

“It’s good to see you, too, Mr. Jinn,” he answered. “I missed you.” 

“Me? Surely not this old man,” Qui-Gon laughed, pulling away and smiling down at Anakin, his eyes crinkling around the corners. Looking back to the girl still sitting on Kenobi’s desk, he said, “Oh, Anakin, you haven’t met Ahsoka, have you? This is my daughter; she’ll be coming here next semester.” 

Eyebrows raising in surprise, he waved at her. 

“Hey, Ahsoka. Nice to meet you. I never would’ve guessed you’re a student here.” 

“Is it because I’m short?” she asked in a blunt tone. “Because I’ve taken down guys bigger than you. Just ask Dad.” 

“Please don’t. I’m still sore from when you convinced me to help you with your karate,” Jinn chuckled. “And, love, to be fair, you’re only 16. That’s pretty early to be in college already.”   
“Well.... Yeah. But I’m just really smart,” she shrugged, grinning up at Anakin. “And apparently, you are too. Dad never shuts up about you. And neither does Uncle Obi.”   
Feeling his heart melt in his chest at that nickname, Anakin looked up at the two men. 

“Is that so?” Turning his gaze upon “Uncle Obi”, he winked. “Can’t get enough of me, can you?” 

Seemingly relieved to see Anakin at least partly back to his normal self, Obi-Wan blushed but smiled fondly at the statement. 

“Oh, no, I simply adore students who I have to rescue from bars and who make it a habit of showing up to class late.” 

“That was only two times!”

“Mm, and counting.” 

“Well, how would you keep life interesting without me?” 

“That...is a very valid question, Anakin.” 

“Yikesss,” Ahsoka suddenly groaned, hopping off the desk. “You guys gonna start making out or something? You already sound like an old married couple.” 

At this, the two men blushed deeply and started sputtering, scrambling to defend themselves. 

“W-we would never-”

“You don’t understand-”

“I don’t think-”

“-highly appropriate-”

“Oh, calm down,” Ahsoka interrupted. “I’m not gonna tell anyone. But now that I’ve seen it myself, I do want in on that bet about how long it’ll take for the two of you to be an item.” Turning to her dad, the teenager reached out and gripped one of his long, threadbare sleeves. 

“Let’s head to your room, Dad. I don’t wanna cockblock them.” 

“Language,” Qui-Gon quipped, but it was hard to take him seriously when he was holding back delighted laughter. “But you are right; we should go set up for today. See you two later.” 

With that, the man and his daughter strolled out, leaving Anakin and Obi-Wan to look at each other bashfully, unsure of what to say after Ahsoka’s comment. 

“Erm… So,” Obi-Wan finally said, breaking the silence. “How about we start getting you caught up on what you missed?” 

“That sounds like a good idea, yeah.”

**Author's Note:**

> Leave me a comment telling me what you think! And, if you'd like, feel free to follow my tumblr, nickywritesimagines. Thanks!


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